


Unmasked

by Mallie3



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Angst, Complicated Relationships, Dark, Drama, F/M, Lemon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 14:25:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 58,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mallie3/pseuds/Mallie3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One guarded young college student, a mysterious professor, and two pasts that collide to create a colorful mask of secrets. Can our favorite couple help one another ease their painful pasts? B/V Dark</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting on this particular site. I hope it grows. :)

_ Unmasked _

By: _Mallie-3_

_Chapter One_

_ Summary: _ _One guarded young woman, a mysterious professor, and two pasts that collide to create a colorful mask of secrets._

_ Disclaimer: _ _I do not own Dragon Ball Z or any of the characters associated with this Anime/Manga._

_ Warnings: _ _This story will have graphic scenes that might not be suitable for those under the age of 18. This is a dark story, with dark pasts and if you can’t handle that sort of thing I discourage you from reading any further. If you enjoy a drama/angst filled fiction with dark parts please by all means continue!_

_ooOoo_

_Malicious laughter could be heard from the main living room near the front of the Briefs home. Its turbulent echo’s shook the cowering young girl to the bone. Her wide eyes were concentrated on the cool floor beneath her body which was located under the dining room table. She could barely think and it caused her muscles to completely lock up. The girl had to desperately will her body to slide across the floor as quickly as possible. She had to get to the panic room. Her stiff knees pressed to the cool tiles as she finally approached the door way. Her hair hung loosely against her face._

_That was when she heard the first gun shot. The young girl’s head whipped around, causing her blue tendrils of hair to slide down her stricken face and over her wide eyes. It was followed by a shriek and loud sobbing. The man who delivered the final blow was laughing. Why were they laughing?_

_“Damn it you fool, how in the hell do you expect to find it if you killed the old bastard?” the scum bag snarled, followed by a loud clap of skin._

_“Damn Leo, that man was jerkin’ our chain. He didn’t have shit.” He slurred, most likely nursing his swelling cheek._

_Bulma didn’t waste a moment more, her fingers spread across the tiled floor as she thrust upward and made a run for it. Her bare feet hit each step loudly drawing the attention from those below her. Tears were filling her eyes and her heart was pounding in her chest as she launched forward and gripped the side rail, propelling her body father up onto the second level where the panic room was held._

_“Johnny, get your ass up those stairs and bring me that damn brat.” One man shouted, over the desperate pleas of her mother._

_Bulma slipped on the top step and glanced over her shoulder. She pressed a hand to her abdomen, gasping for the air that had just been knocked out of her. The young girl sobbed and gritted her teeth as she forced her aching body up once again as she heard the heavy booted feet of the man sent to obtain her._

_She gripped the edge of the wall and flung her body around the corner and jogged toward her parents’ bedroom just in time to see the man rushing toward her door. Bulma’s eyes burned and it was almost impossible to breath. Her shaking hands gripped the door handle and slammed her petit frame into the door. Bulma grunted out a half sob as she felt her feet sliding across the carpet. Her eyes widened as she began to panic._

_“I’ve got ya, ya little brat.” The man shoved a hand through the door, feeling for the girl._

_Bulma whimpered and pulled back, watching the calloused fingers extending toward her face. She shoved harder and more ferociously, but it seemed that no matter how hard she shoved the man was not backing down. Finally his head and part of his upper body slipped through the crack, peering down at her with a sharp grin. His green eyes shimmered with interest._

_“There ya are, Bulma sweetie.” The man chuckled and growled loudly, barreling down the door and causing her body to fling to the ground._

_“Leave me alone, please.” Bulma sobbed, rubbing her aching arms. She quickly turned and began to crawl for her parent’s walk-in closet._

_“I am sorry to say that I can’t until we find what it is out boss wants from your wanker of a father.” The man tilted his head to the side and looked over her small body, licking his lower lip and launching forward to grab one of her slender legs._

_He reached for the holster near his waist and retrieved his silenced handgun. Bulma shrieked as her captor flipped her body over and pressed the barrel against her abdomen. His lips were parted and his eyes roamed over her body, creating a dull ache in her stomach. The young girl could feel the bile rising up her throat as the man sized her up, reaching in to caress her cheek as he whispered twisted things to her. Hot tears trailed down her cheeks and into her ears as she watched the man. She couldn’t speak, nor think._

_Her body was in shock that it didn’t know what to do. He was on one knee and trailing the muzzle of the gun up her wrinkled shirt toward her budding breasts and then toward the side of her cheek. He leaned in and sneered at her, “Where is it?” she jerked feeling a bead of his sweat hit her wet cheek._

_“I-I don’t know what you are talking about,” Bulma closed her eyes tightly and sobbed._

_“Yes ya do, ya little bitch, you’re his daughter. Don’t tell me you didn’t have a clue what he was doin’.” The man sat up straight and plowed the butt of his gun into the side of her face, gashing her porcelain flesh._

_Bulma’s hands flew to her face, cradling her cheek. She could taste her coppery blood filling her mouth, alerting her that he most likely busted her gums and chipped a few teeth. She spat out the deep colored blood and peered up at him, her lower lip quivering with fear. Blood ran down her face from the deep wound upon her cheek._

_“Get up, cunt,” he gripped her blue hair and tossed her upon the bed, just a tad closer to the panic room that lie just behind the open closet door._

_“There is nothing I can fucking do, you can ask me all you want. I still don’t understand what it is you are after.” Bulma sobbed, gripping the blankets tightly from under her, causing her knuckles to turn white._

_“Damn it, you are terrible with kids,” Leo said as he entered the room with a blind folded blonde. She had been struggling the whole way up the stairs and sobbing against the recently placed cloth gag._

_“Momma,” Bulma leaned forward knowing her mother had heard her because she was reaching out and looking in the direction that she heard the sound of her daughter’s voice. A small smile could be seen on her bloodied features. Bulma’s heart broke for her._

_“She is useless. The only other one that knows where Dr. Brief’s notes are is this little brat.” The new arrival said, sliding a hand over his slicked back hair._

_Brief’s wife leaned forward and began to wail shaking her tied up hands and pleading through the piece of cloth caught between her teeth. Bulma began to sob and shake her head, “Let her go, she did nothing.” Her lower lips began to quiver seeing the man named ‘Leo’ pull out his loaded gun and pointed the muzzle against her mother’s matted hair._

_The sound was silenced and in an instant the woman she called ‘mother’ lay lifeless upon the carpet. A pool of bright red blood pooled around her head. Gore and blood splatter littered the floor. Both men were leaning in and chuckling, observing their handy work._

_The young girl’s eyes darkened. She refused to cry and bolted for the open door. Her fingers pressed against the key pad, typing in the required password. The steel door beeped, alerting the intruders as well as granting her access. She slammed the steel door closed as fast as it allowed and entered the lock code. The cameras flipped on as well as the lights._

_She took a few deep breaths, allowing all her emotions to slam into her like a ton of bricks. When it did the tears didn’t stop. She stumbled toward the alarm system, slamming her fist upon the red button, and then slid to the ground. Bulma pulled her knees to her chest and rested her forehead against her thighs, crying for the loss of both parents. She was crying for herself as well. Where would she go? What would she do? Her trembling hand gripped a small pendant wrapped around her neck. It was a small heart shaped locket with a tiny glittering diamond in the center given to her by her parents on her tenth birthday. She gripped her source of comfort tightly, speaking to her dead parents out loud as she sobbed._

_An alarm sounded and a light flickered at the corner of her eye. Her swollen face lifted a moment, sobbing loudly as she lifted a shaky hand to answer the call, the call that saved her life._

_.._

_._

_._

_.._

_…_

She opened her eyes, shifting them slowly toward the obnoxious alarm that had sounded in her ear. For once, she was quite grateful to hear its persistent wails. Her hand slammed upon the plastic clock, silencing its shouts for the morning and slipped her legs from her small single bed. She lifted her hand to wipe away the sleep from the corners of her eyes and stretched letting out a loud and obnoxious moan.

“Damn girl, you are up early.” The blonde from the other bed murmured as she was still half asleep.

“Mhm,” Brandi nodded, running a hand through her brown locks of hair.

“When is your first class?” Steph asked, stretching under her own comforter and sitting up, fixing her messy bun.

“9:30 this morning. I can’t believe it is 7:30, I swear I just laid my head down,” the brown haired woman chuckled softly.

“Are you coming to Tom’s tonight for the kegger?” The blonde asked, rubbing the smudged make-up from her eyes.

“Uh, that all depends on the amount of homework I get the first day. I am lucky that I only have two classes today, but I still would like to finish it before tomorrow. Tuesdays and Thursdays are overloaded days,” Brandi pointed an index finger at her and stood up, straightening her pajama shorts and tank, making her way toward her dresser.

“Ah, well my overloaded days are Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I… suck.” She stated, making her fingers into the shape of a gun and pretending to blow her brains out.

Brandi shook her head and smiled softly, pulling out each garment and placing it upon her thigh, “Yep, you do.” She agreed.

Stephanie grinned and nodded, pursing her lips, “I know I do,” she winked and ran her hands down the front of her tank.

“Oh gosh, you’re such a pervert.” Brandi chuckled softly, standing up and making her way toward the door with her shower supplies, “I’ll be back, shower it is for me.”

Steph was laughing hysterically at her roommate’s reaction and nodded, wiping away her tears, “Hurry back now,” she called out as the door closed.

Brandi traveled the small distance from her small dorm room toward the showers. She stepped inside with her shower kit and laid everything she needed out. She had her toothbrush, comb, towel, and clothing.

At twenty, it was her second full semester at this particular University. She had spent the first two years of her college career at a community college. There was much to decide those first two years and since she wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to study she figured she needed to start small. Once she obtained her associates she decided on a career path. She loved nothing more than to learn about the complicated aspects of the brain. She wanted to know what caused physiological problems. What caused a person’s entire personality to change? What did they think, or see? What did they feel when placed in regular society, not knowing they are different?

It was her passion and she was working toward her B.A. She wasn’t sure what she would go on to do, but she would love nothing more than to work with those people being affected physiologically.

Stephanie Roe was her roommate and had been for the entirety of last semester. She was going for Education and was also a part of the cheerleading squad. It seemed like the only thing instilled in their brains was being able to do a proper front and back hand spring and to sell those stupid raffle tickets. The girl was sweet. She was a junior at the college hoping for just one more year before she began student teaching at the Middle School of her choice. Brandi was happy for her friend.

She was honestly happy that she had met her. She could be a little over the top and sometimes over peppy, but she still enjoyed her company. She was an entertaining individual. Brandi wasn’t the type of girl to instantly latch onto someone just because she had a class with them, or partied one time with the person no matter how awesome they were.

Brandi slid her hands over her dark hair, and rang it out. She stepped out of the shower after thoroughly washing and wrapped her warm towel around her dripping body. The petit girl leaned over and tapped her shower shoes and headed toward the mirror. She used a hand towel to dry off her hair. She combed the tangles free and then began to apply her concealer, making sure to dab some lightly over the fading scare upon her cheek.

Brandi licked her lips and quickly put on clothing. She dressed in a simple V-neck t-shirt and a pair of jeans. She slipped on a pair of socks and a pair of suede boots that came 1/3 of the way up her shin. She zipped them up and stood to apply the thin scarf around her neck before she threw up her wet hair in a messy bun adorning her skull with a thick headband that wrapped up her bangs. She quickly spritzed herself and headed back to her room. Steph was still in bed and snoring with her mouth wide open.

“Stephanie…” Brandi leaned over the bed and tapped the girl’s nose, causing a soft snorkel to erupt from her throat. She shot up and wiped the spit stream from her mouth and offered her friend a dorky smile.

“Hey…” she slurred, rubbing her face with both her hands, inhaling deeply, “I fell asleep again. Help me up,” the blonde extended her arms and gripped her friends forearm to force herself to get up and about.

“Yes you did, you have a class at 10:30, right?” Brandi asked her, raising a dark eyebrow.

“Mhm, I do,” she chuckled and slowly glided toward her dresser drawers.

“Then you better hurry up, the rate you’re going you’re going to be late.” Brandi pulled her phone from the end table between the two beds and looked at the time. It was 8:45 and she still needed to get a bagel for breakfast as well as her routine coffee before she stepped one foot into that class room.

“It is only what…?” her groggy voice trailed off, looking for her roommate’s clock, “Nine…I have plenty of time,” Stephanie mumbled.

“Yeah, yeah, you will thank me when you finish getting ready at least forty minutes before you have to have to leave for class. You spend more time on your hair than any other woman I have met. My mother spends a lot of time on her hair, trust me, I know what _long_ is.” Brandi shook her head, tucking a loose piece of dried hair behind her ear.

“Whatever…” Steph shrugged and took her shower supplies elsewhere.

The brown haired girl slipped out of her dorm door and closed the door behind her, saying her good-byes to her friend before exiting the building. It was a cool day. This particular state didn’t have as bitter winters as the Central states, but it sure rained quite a bit in some areas. Washington was a beautiful place to grow up. She had truly grown fond of it. The towns’ people were nice and it was not just because they all knew her mother, who owned a flower shop. Her thriving business was well known for making the most beautiful flower arrangements and during certain parts of the year she was completely swamped with work.

Brandi slipped her hands into her pockets and walked down the busy sidewalk toward the Starbucks at the corner. It was the closest one to the building in which her first class was held. She pulled a piece of paper she had printed from the Library a few days back and looked at the room number and teacher.

 

 **HALL**                    **ROOM**                    **TEACHER**                     _TIME_

James                        303                            Ouji                          M/W/F 9:00-9:50

 

Ouji was the last name of the teacher she was going to have to deal with for the entire semester. She honestly hoped it wasn’t an old Professor who lost his or her drive to teach. It was the worst thing in the world when a student has to endure a class where a teacher detested all living and breathing creatures placed before them. It honestly made her hate herself and being before them. Luckily she only had one woman that did that to her last semester. The woman was retiring soon anyway, and for that Brandi was grateful.

As she stepped into the warm atmosphere of the coffee shop, her nose took her straight for the counter where she ordered her Carmel Macchiato with skim milk and a blue berry muffin for the walk. Her stomach gurgled and protested as the enticing smells floated up into her nose cavity.  She paid for the items and waited patiently, situating her backpack from time to time and checking the time on her phone obsessively.

Brandi gripped her warm coffee cup in one hand and clutched the muffin in the other, explaining to the server that she didn’t need a box. She nodded and took a bite, using her rear end to prop open the door and make a quick exit. She slowly made her way down the side walk; feeling a bit worried that she couldn’t look at the time. It was most likely less than twenty minutes before her class started.

The young woman finished the last bit of her delicious muffin and tossed her wrapper away in the garbage she was passing by. She entered James Hall and headed straight for the elevator that took her to the third floor. She knew stairs were the healthy choice, but it was nearly 9:30 in the morning and she wasn’t feeling especially productive today. Her crystal blue eyes scanned the numbers upon the top of each door and finally paused as she made it to her destination. She gripped the door handle and entered, slowly making her way up a few flights of steps to a seat far away from the front of the room.

The dry erase boards were in pristine condition and everything had a particular place. Of course it wasn’t this specific Professor’s room, but the Psychology hall was known to be the best kept. Honestly she couldn’t complain because they had the nicest bathrooms and a variety of different vending machines with her favorite snacks.

Brandi plopped down in her seat and pulled her dark heap of messy brown locks tighter upon her head and situated the headband, holding back her bangs. She looked to the closed door watching as the students began to pile in with just minutes to spare. She hated crowded rooms, especially rooms that had her placed between two men who applied a little too much cologne this morning. Her fingers plugged her nose tightly, feeling the urge to sneeze. Thankfully one was a few seats away.

“Can I sit here?” asked a well-built man about her age with beautiful blue eyes and a great smile.

“I don’t know, can you?” Brandi looked up from her planner and blinked a few times.

The young man chuckled softly and sat down, placing his backpack near his feet, shifting a questioning look her way. Her eyes quickly avoided eye contact with him which surprisingly drew the man’s attention.

“What is your name?” he smiled flashing those pearly whites.

“Why?” she asked, growing annoyed.

“Well, I don’t know I figured I would get to know my classmates since we have to spend a semester together.” He shrugged, “Brandon.” He nodded to her.

Brandi chuckled and shook her head, “I see. My name is Brandi.”

“Nice to meet you, Brandi.” He leaned back in his chair and looked her over.

The uncomfortable young woman shifted in her seat. Her attention along with everyone else seated in the classroom was immediately grasped when a loud slam echoed throughout the class room. The Professor was standing in the front of the class and slowly prying open the brief case that had just created the loud thud

“Good morning class,” her professor said in a gruff tone.

His onyx eyes lifted, skimming over each one of the faces looking down on him. He pulled out a dry erase marker from his collection and turned to face the board, quickly writing his last name, class, and degree in black markings. He let out a slow breath, capped the marker, and slowly made his way to the front of his desk and lean against it with his pinstriped dress pants. His black belt showed off his lean center, which his trunk came up in the perfect V form. He wore a pale yellow button down dress shirt with a black tie. His hair was black as night and in a short spiked style. His aristocratic features were quite striking.

Why hadn’t she seen him before? He was gorgeous with that long straight nose, well-formed mouth that had a kissable lower lip, and beautifully high cheekbones. He looked striking, yet intimidating. Those obsidian eyes of his skimmed over everyone so critically. Brandi found she needed to close her lips tightly or her tongue could quite possibly fall right out of her mouth and onto her tabletop.

“My name is Mr. Ouji. Not Professor, Doc, dude, Mr. O, hey man, just Mr. Ouji.” His silky voice caressed over her like soft fingertip, causing her to lean forward desperately wanting him to speak again.

Brandi blinked her blue eyes a few times, feeling absolutely silly about her childish attraction. Yes, he was obnoxiously good looking, had a great body from what she could see, and he most likely packing a wallop in the lower regions…

_Shut up! Down girl, my gosh you need to get laid…_

She leaned back and got her wandering thoughts under control quickly, tapping her pen upon the desk top quietly and refusing to look his way as he spoke.

“I do not take kindly to side chatter, if I catch you, you will be asked to leave.” He said leaning back on his large hands, “No cell phones, I could care less about your life outside of this classroom. If I see it, you will be asked to leave. If you must use the restroom, do it before class. This is my time. The only absence I accept is if you are in the hospital, if you fall ‘ill’ for whatever reason, it isn’t my problem, party on the weekends during your own time.” Mr. Ouji drawled out.

Everyone was looking around at one another by this time. They could sense it wasn’t going to be an easy course because their Professor was completely insane with his rules in the classroom. She too felt a bit more uneasy. Brandi reached into her pocket to quickly shut off her phone. When she looked up her Professor was making eye contact with her. His black eyes were narrowed into something a bit more sinister. She had been shutting off her phone, what was this guy’s deal?

“Any questions?” he pried his eyes away from her, scanning the room.

“Will you be giving us study guides for the test; I didn’t see an explanation for the exams in your syllabus online.” A young girl stammered as she pushed up her glasses.

“No, but I will inform you now that I will have quizzes for each chapter you read. We will find out real quick which students shall be successful in this course. I do hope you all checked your student e-mails. I sent out a mass e-mail asking you become familiar with chapter one of the text book by today. Today will be your first quiz,” he turned from his desk and pulled out a folder with the quizzes.

Brandi’s mouth dropped open; she flipped through her printed syllabus to see what things this Professor had planned for day one. The word ‘open’ was printed in bold letters. Open? What did that mean, like, anything was game?

She slammed her syllabus upon the tabletop and propped her head up on the desk. Her blue eyes shot daggers at the new professor.

_Touché Professor, you may be hot, but I hate you…_

ooOoo

She hated him. She hated him with a passion. Why would he do that to his students? Class hadn’t even begun yet and he assigned a quiz? She was completely beside herself at the moment. Brandi pulled the pack of smokes from her side zipper on her back pack and lit up just outside the building.

She hadn’t failed the quiz because she applied her previous historic knowledge from other classes to this particular quiz. It was a history of Psychology course that she decided to take in order to fill up her schedule.

She inhaled deeply, enjoying the menthol that filled her mouth and put her body at ease. Smoking was her stress reliever. She thought it was better than drinking herself into a coma like most the college students she knew. She yanked the hair tie from her head and dragged her fingers through the wavy damp locks of her brown hair. She happened to glance up and see a pair of dark pants approaching her.

The man leaned over and grabbed her pack of cigarettes that happened to fall out of her backpack upon dropping it and offered them to her. Brandi ran her hand through her hair and lifted her gaze; she took a drag and opened her mouth to speak. The words died on her tongue.

“Brandi, was it?” Her professors intimidating stare bore into her, nearly making her scramble for cover.

The young woman quickly pushed away her fears and anxieties, held head high, and snatched the pack before slipped it into her back pocket. The man chuckled darkly before pulling out his own pack and placing a fresh cigarette between his lips. He felt around for a lighter, sighing softly realizing he had left it in his office. With a quick flick of her thumb, a bright flame stood from the top of the lighter. Mr. Ouji leaned in and took a quick drag from his own cigarette.

Her Professor smoked? She was completely shocked. From the way he carried himself she figured he needed a stress relief from time to time.

“Yes, I am she,” Brandi waved a hand, offering him a fake smile.

His dark eyes shifted quickly over her features, but instantly looked away turning his back to her.

“You did surprisingly well on your quiz,” he said as he sucked in a drag before allowing it to exit his nostrils.

Brandi blinked a few times, flashing him a confused look, “I look that incapable of passing your class, huh?” she took a large drag and shook her head, feeling her anger boil within her.

_Asshole…_

“Not that you look incapable, Miss. Williams, you looked rather shocked that I assigned homework for the first day.” He said, taking one more drag of his half way used smoke and stomped it out, “Well, I must start another class, see you Wednesday, and check your e-mail religiously. I would hate for you to fail out of my class.” He grinned, slipping his hands into his pockets and making his way back to his classes.

Brandi sneered, stomping out her own cigarette and storming off, flipping her bag over her shoulder.

Later that evening, Steph arrived back from her cheerleading practice and dropped all her gear in the duel closet on her side of the room. She turned her slim athletic body toward her sulking friend and lifted a brow.

“Wow, what pissed you off?” she asked, tilting her head to the side causing her blonde ponytail to jerk around wildly.

“I hated my first class, the asshole had a surprise quiz.” She said into the pillow her face was stuffed against.

“Oh shit, you know for sure you failed?” Stephanie slipped next to her and patted her back.

“I did well,” she mumbled.

The blonde laughed out loud and flipped her dramatic friend over, “Then why in the heck are you complaining?”

“Because who in the hell does that? I mean, he didn’t even care it seemed like. For all I know he gets off knowing we are struggling.” The brunette shrugged her shoulders.

Steph leaned in and shook her head, “Yea, some teachers as pricks. Hold still you have make-up smeared on her cheek,” she giggled, rubbing her thumb down the swell of her friend’s cheek bone, frowning as she traced the arched scar there.

“You know, you never told me how you got this sucker. It looks like it definitely hurt. What did your parents do, beat you?” she laughed out loud knowing how sweet Brandi’s mother was and how incapable she was to cause that.

Brandi smacked her friend’s hand away roughly and frowned deeply, causing Stephanie’s laughter to immediately cease, “No, my parents did beat me. What is your problem? That was a stupid question, Steph.” She said harshly, causing the blonde to flush a deep red.

“Dude, relax it was a joke.” The cheerleader said softly.

“Well, I am not joking.” Brandi looked away, avoiding eye contact.

“Sorry,” the older girl replied.

The moment she heard Steph stand, she felt a wave of guilt. She didn’t mean to pounce on the girl like that. She was just pushed too hard today.

“Look, I didn’t mean to snap. It just wasn’t a good day, still on for that kegger?” the brunette forced a smile on her lips.

Steph nodded tackling her friend in the bed, wrapping her arms around her, “Of course, bitch.” She chuckled playfully, standing and getting into party going clothing.

Brandi reached into her bag and pulled out her Xanax and popped a tablet in her mouth, downing it with a small water bottle from her mini fridge. She wiped her mouth and reached toward her throat, gripping a small heart shaped pendant with a glittering diamond placed in the very center. What would she wear for this night’s event?

ooOoo


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unmasked
> 
> Chapter 2
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z or any of the characters, nor do I make any profit from it.
> 
> Author's Note: If you're confused…I am glad…
> 
> Word Count: 8,201

ooOoo

…

..

.

Monday night was a treat. They had gone to a kegger, which she tried to escape from several times. Once Steph found out what she was doing she had eyes on her always and kept her arms linked with hers. Brandi wasn't in the mood to drink at all, but she stayed out anyway. She of course got the joyous opportunity to drive her vomiting friend home in her car, which was nice. She could still remember the pungent odor of her vomit. It unfortunately coated the lining of her nostrils for a few days.

Tuesday had come and gone quickly. She had to work from 4:30 to 10pm at the small coffee shop on campus. It was nothing like Starbucks, but she enjoyed the manager, who was a family friend, and her co-workers.

It was a slow night and she was able to get much of her reading done while sitting behind the counter, waiting for customers. Brandi was lucky to have such laid back staff that understood her obligation to school. Soon she wouldn't have to worry about it, but in the meantime that was her life unless she was dragged around to other functions that included alcohol by her roommate.

Wednesday finally arrived and she had her class with this Ouji character. Her stomach twisted into knots. Why was she feeling so uncomfortable? Brandi felt odd feeling so uncomfortable, which usually didn't occur with people. All she usually had to do was ignore them. It would be hard since he was not just anyone, but her professor.

Brandi couldn't help but feel a little wrong. She hated the man after a single meeting, but couldn't help but feel this strange curiosity. Why? She wasn't sure yet, and quite honestly she didn't want to find out. She wanted to get through the semester and never see him again.

She quickly dressed and threw up her hair in a simple messy ponytail and exited her dorm. Her hands immediately dove into her pockets, reaching for that small box which contained her daily dose of nicotine. Brandi placed the white filter between her glistening lips and lit the tip carefully, blocking the soft breeze from the flicker of the glowing flame. Smoke spiraled up toward the sky as she took in a deep breath, allowing the smoke to coat her lungs and her craving to be sated for a moment or two.

8:30 already, but she was in no hurry. She had been lying in bed for a few hours before her alarm went off. It was the nightmares that kept her from sleep. She couldn't help but worry that her meds wouldn't properly curb her anxiety. She didn't want to tell her mother. God forbid that woman worried too much for her well-being already. It was her duty as parent guardian, but she hated seeing that flicker of sadness drift across those sweet features of hers. Now that she was out of the house it was easy for her to fake. All she had to do was put on a smile and show up a couple times a week to prove she was alive. She was twenty and felt as if she was a child checking up as she did, but if it made Lorelei happy, that was all that mattered.

Brandi flicked the filter into the street. Smoke escaped her nostrils. She lifted a hand and pressed the wisps of brown locks behind her ear and licked her dry lips. She stopped at the crosswalk, looking both ways. Her hand squeezed her strap tightly. Her blue eyes flicked toward the flashing 'do no cross' light. The traffic kept coming, leaving no room to cross at any point.

She glanced down at her phone's clock, cursing softly to herself. She would surely be late at this rate. So much for being slow this morning. She started out early and now she was going to be late to his class. Great, this is exactly what she needed for the day. The last wave of cars came and she carefully stepped over the curb. Brandi looked both ways once again, seeing that all four lanes were cleared.

_Screw the stupid sign…_

She carelessly darted as soon as she decided she was not going to wait for the light. Her eyes shifted to the side, seeing a large black object quickly approaching her right side. She took in a sharp breath and flinched as she heard the sharp squeal of car tires on the asphalt. Her small body tensed up, feeling her knees immediately lock into place out of pure fear. A black sedan was able to stop mere inches from her body. Brandi couldn't feel her heart racing in her chest and the strap of her backpack slowly sliding from her arm. Her knees were no longer tense, but they felt like jelly. She cursed herself in her mind, begging and willing her body not to pass out. Her eyes were flickering as she looked down at her body. She felt a strong rush to her head as the car door opened and closed loudly. Her blue eyes shot up.

Was that who she thought it was? A dark haired man dressed professionally stepped free from his vehicle and looked upon her with pure hatred. She shot him a confused look, unable to return the same look even though she wanted to. He ran a hand through his hair, hiding that he too was just as scared as she was.

"Miss. Williams, what in the hell do you think you are doing? I don't think you will live long enough to make it through my class making poor decisions like that. I won't ask if you are alright because clearly you are in one piece." Professor asshole replied with that incredibly sexy voice of his.

She gasped and shrunk back hearing she was indeed in one piece, "Yeah..." she said stupidly, stumbling backward.

Vegeta's nostrils flared, obviously irritated with her answer, "Miss. Williams," Mr. Ouji leaned forward, latching onto her small wrist and pulling her close.

The sound of horns honking caught her attention and her eyes lifted from the asphalt. There was a long line behind the professor's car. He wasn't paying any attention to them. His eyes were on hers instead, looking her over. Was that concern she saw in his eyes? No, it couldn't be concern. This man was unable of feeling anything unless it was causing others pain. She began to smile to herself.

"I'm really sorry, I wasn't thinking." She shook her head and pulled her arm away.

"Clearly," he frowned before gripping her shoulder and guiding her toward his car.

"I have to get to…um…your class," Brandi stammered, feeling a bit odd and rather dumb.

"Shut up and get in," Mr. Ouji replied before rolling those obsidian eyes of his.

She listened and quickly stepped into the car. Brandi slouched in her seat, following his form with her suspicious eyes as he rounded the car. He pulled open his driver door and slipped in.

"I really didn't…" she was cut off quickly as his hand swiped across her path of vision causing her to close her lips.

"I said...stop talking," he peered over at her and pursed his lips and as soon as she was quiet he spoke again, "Very good,"

"Fine," Brandi said softly, licking her lips quickly and keeping her eyes on the road.

Vegeta let out a slow annoyed breath as he shot her another glare. His hands gripped the steering wheel as he headed down the busy street toward the University. The mob of cars followed them the entire way. They were students hurrying to class, which she was oh so lucky and getting carted around by Mr. Ouji.

"You know, I think I am old enough to take care of myself. I don't need a babysitter." Brandi finally said in a rough tone as she rolled her blue eyes and tightened her knees around the heavy bag between her legs.

"Well, you were a few seconds away from becoming road kill because of your choices. Maybe you do need a babysitter, that or you should have followed mommy's rules, huh? Look both ways before you cross the street." Vegeta sat up straight as his nostrils flared and his grip tightened. His dark eyes widened as they flickered back and forth between moving traffic.

"It was a mistake, jerk." The Brunette frowned deeply and clenched her fists.

"Mistakes can get you killed. I know you are smarter than that." His dark eyebrows lifted a moment as he sucked in a breath, reconsidering his words, "Well, I take that back. I don't know you at all. You _seemed_ smarter than that, but I was obviously mistaken about your intelligence." Mr. Ouji snorted.

Brandi's frown deepened slightly as she watched his features, "So, why are you always so cranky?" She threw up her hands slightly, "You seem to have something against society. Either that or you just suck at making friends."

"You know nothing about me." Vegeta said softly with an unreadable expression.

"Whatever, I don't care as long as you don't dock me points in your class or something." Brandi looked out the window and began to grin softly to herself. She felt a bit silly saying something so ridiculous.

Vegeta began to turn into the faculty parking lot. His sedan slipped easily between two other faculty cars and he quickly put his car in park. The handsome man shifted in his seat and looked her over carefully. Brandi's cheeks began to tint slightly. What was he looking at? His lips peeled back over his brilliantly pearly whites, showing her a fierce grin.

"Don't tempt me," he chuckled, reaching across her seat and pushing her door open, "See you in class. You don't have an excuse to be late now." He kept eye contact with her briefly before looking away and allowing her to exit his vehicle.

Brandi's mouth dropped open, "You can't be serious. That isn't even fair." She stepped out of the car and grew even more irritated by the man as he waved her away from his car. He stepped out on his own and gripped his briefcase tightly in his hand as he made his way toward the faculty doors. He didn't even respond to her comment. He didn't care. He was an asshole. Quite frankly, she liked it. Her odd colored eyebrows narrowed as she slowly turned and headed to the front of the building.

To be quite honest she was thinking of skipping, tempted to push the envelope. She wanted him, no, dared him to take points. She would be in the Deans office so fast his head would be spinning upon those muscular shoulders of his.

Brandi cleared her throat and shook her head. There she went again, looking at his physical attributes. She sighed and gripped the door handle to the building and began to sift through the herds of people swarming the halls, ready to get to class. She slipped into her class and made her way to her seat. A man lifted his eyes and was smiling and nodding at her as she approached. She forced a fake smile and quickly sat.

When Brandi arrived at her seat she set her bag down at her side and glanced to her side to see the smiling man was picking up his own bag and moving closer to her. He was a new face. She had not seen him on Monday. The guy most likely signed up for classes late. The guy wasn't off to a good start if that was the case, especially with mister hard ass.

She pulled out her 'Burt's Bees' and applied a bit upon her dry lips, enjoying the soft tingle that soothed. She shifted her eyes toward the guy once again to see he was watching her. Brandi frowned slightly and shifted in her seat, gripping her bag and pulling out her books, ignoring the guy. Why was he being so damn obvious? That was such a turn off. Men who tried too hard made her want to throw up. Damn, she could feel his eyes on her face. What did he want?

She cleared her throat and shot her eyes toward the main door. Mr. Ouji had yet to arrive. She pulled out her phone to see her guardian had texted her. A smile formed on her lips. She missed Lorelei.

_Hey B,_

_Come over 4 din 2 nite. We have an important guest. Love u! xoxo -Mom_

Brandi grinned softly. Her mother always did try her hardest to relate to her somehow, which she thoroughly enjoyed. Her mother's text lingo was great. She quickly texted back and turned off her phone before the phone Nazi arrived and started barking orders. As she slipped her phone past the zipper just Mr. Ouji made his way into the room and slammed his briefcase on the desk, sitting down and writing for some time.

The brunettes attention was finally caught as the young man beside her cleared his throat loud enough to make her glance in his direction. She cocked a brow and watched him suspiciously as he smiled softly at her. He was decent looking, she would give him that. He was just awkward, yep, awkward.

The young man beside her leaned in and whispered softly, "So, what can you tell me about this guy? I just signed up today." The new guy shifted his eyes toward the Professor.

Bingo, he was late to sign up.

Brandi arched her back a bit and lifted her eyes to meet his warm brown gaze, "He is a prick." She inhaled deeply, keeping a straight face.

His eyebrows arched as his lips twitched and a grin formed on them, "Well, damn I was hoping all the rumors were false. You know those sites that tell you about a Professor and such, right?" Brandi nodded and swallowed, shifting her eyes down at Mr. Ouji who was oblivious to their conversation.

"Nope, they are true. This class isn't going to be a cake walk if that is what you are looking for. You might want to drop if you think this will be an easy 'A'." she rolled her eyes, trailing her fingers over the page she was reading.

"Not what I was hoping for. I just like to enjoy my classes." He leaned back, feeling a bit intimidated by this woman's cold attitude, "Not much of a talker, are you?" he said finally.

"Nope," Brandi began to ignore him once again.

"Well, I hope I can break that barrier over this semester." The young man chuckled.

Brandi looked up once again and frowned, "Barrier, huh? Alright, I am not looking to get buddy- buddy with you. I am not looking to be BFF's either."

"Brandi, huh?" he pointed to the name printed across her planner, causing her to immediately swipe her arm over it protectively.

"The name is Yamcha, Yamcha Kato." He reached out, offering her a handshake.

What was with the guys in this damn class? Monday she had to deal with that…guy…and now this wacko?

Brandi looked down at the extended hand and then back up at his smiling form, "That's great." She smiled sarcastically, completely ignoring the hand slowly retreating. It was definitely getting awkward. She gripped her book, pretending to read, but watching him struggle to find something else to talk to her about. He was a persistent guy.

"Is there something of importance that needs to be discussed for all the class to hear? I am curious as to why you are not reading the text. There is a pop quiz this class, yet again. Students in my class should always be prepared. Right, Miss Williams?" Mr. Ouji was now standing and walking around his desk with his hands in his pockets. His black gaze locked on the brunette and her chatty new 'friend'.

His beautiful formed lips were pursed tightly. His strong arms were at his side, deep in his pocket and the way he was standing was strong and demanding. She should not be excited by this. She needed help. She was convinced it was the meds or something, or maybe because she hadn't received sexual relief in a long while. Now she was looking at her teachers with sexual thoughts because she has been deprived, yep that is it. Well, she was not about to answer him. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

Brandi kept her lips tightly closed as she sank in her seat, breaking eye contact with her Professor. She could feel those dark eyes on her form. He wanted to make her feel bad for what happened earlier. There was usually always one student that stood out, whether it was positive of negative and she was almost one hundred percent positive it was her. It was not a good thing either.

"Speak up," Vegeta raised a brow and then shifted his eyes to this Yamcha character.

"Just making introductions, sir." Yamcha said softly, toying with his mechanical pencil.

Vegeta Ouji nodded slowly, "I see, speaking of introductions, who are you? I think the class would like to know. I know. Yamcha is it? Transferred between community colleges? A wealthy daddy who pays for everything? Don't expect this class to be easy, Mr. Kato. I don't go easy on anyone." He sneered, pulling his hands from his pockets and pacing the floor before his desk.

The class was not saying a word. They were all looking amongst themselves. Brandi was positive they were scared to even breathe. Shit, last class no one dared to raise a hand unless they were insane because they were afraid of being shot down or made a fool of.

"Of course not, sir. As for my family's wealth, I am very grateful for having the opportunity to even go to school and get it paid for, don't mistake me for some rich snobby kid." Yamcha snorted, but ended it with a smile on his lips, "I am sorry to offend you."

"I hope so, if we are through with the extra chatter for the day, let us begin with this quiz, shall we?" The professor once again locked eyes with Brandi, causing her to swallow hard.

The quiz was short and had everything she had read from the third and fourth chapter. This time there were many short answers. The questions were not difficult if you read, but they were definitely loaded questions. Brandi was having a hard time writing the entire answer to the question in each little space, so much for 'short answers'.

Ten minutes into the quiz Mr. Ouji stopped them to let them know they had twenty minutes. It had already taken her to answer ten minutes to answer two of the short answers fully. Brandi was about to explode. How did he expect them to answer ten loaded 'short answers' in twenty minutes with fifteen extra multiple choice questions. He was doing this on purpose. He liked to challenge his students and watch them squirm in the process. She frowned and tried to write fast, causing her hand to burn terribly.

When the time had expired she was able to simply answer all of the short answers except for three and finish all the multiple choice. Of course Ouji had to end their pop quiz with a boom. The man pulled out a blow horn and pressed it for a short length of time. Everyone was royally pissed. Brandi nearly fell from her chair. She had glared down at him, which unfortunately he wasn't looking at her. He collected all of the quizzes and began to explain the next assignment, which was a paper. It was a minimum eight page paper on a film he had assigned. It sounded easy enough, but she knew they most likely would be a catch. The rest of the week he was planning on lecturing the class to catch them up, but stressed that they must read ahead to stay ahead with the homework requirements.

Everyone was excused and they quickly piled out, whispering amongst one another about how unfair the professor had been during class. Brandi, however, stayed behind. She slowly put her books away. Luckily, Yamcha was too busy dwelling on the quiz to much to pay much attention to her, thank goodness.

"So, what was that about?" Brandi called down to him, which he didn't lift his head or answer. Mr. Ouji just sifted through her papers.

"A warning about the time would have been nice. That was nothing like any pop quiz I have ever taken." Brandi slowly approached his desk and looked down to see her paper was out in the open and he was reading over her answers.

"I can assure you, Miss Williams, I am not like any teachers you have had. Looks like your answers were quite long at times. I was looking for short answers," Professor Ouji began to mark up the paper, making notes for her when she was clearly right in front of him.

"What are you writing?" Brandi leaned over, trying to read his offensive markings.

She began to read his writing out loud, "…didn't…understand…the concept, hey!?" Brandi shouted, pulling the bag up higher on her shoulder and frowned, "I understood completely, you just ask complicated questions, ever think of that? That is bullshit that you ask for 'short answers' with a loaded question." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Language," Vegeta frowned deeply before proceeding to answer, "I am sorry, Miss Williams." He placed a hand over his forehead and shook his head, "You know I forgot for a moment who the teacher of this class was, can you tell me?" He raised his head, scanning her face with those menacing eyes causing Brandi to grow more aggravated with him.

"You are nuts," she raised her voice and watched him calculate her grade, putting her final score at a high 'C', which only added to the fire.

"How did I get a 'C'?" Brandi's mouth dropped.

"Miss. Williams, you ramble and quite frankly, I hate ramblers. Not to mention," He stopped and pointed to one of the fifteen multiple choice questions, "This was wrong."

"That it because it wasn't even in the chapter," Brandi challenged.

"Correct, but that is why you must always read ahead," Mr. Ouji handed her the paper and grinned evilly.

"You're horrible. I will report you by the end of the semester if someone else doesn't." Brandi threatened as she swiped the paper from his hand and stuffed it in her bag.

"Go ahead, it is no use anyway." Vegeta Ouji said softly, collecting the rest in his hand and placing them neatly into his briefcase before closing it and standing up, "Have a good night, Miss Williams and try not to get hit by oncoming traffic."

Brandi's mouth dropped open and at the same moment as he stepped out of her line of vision she pursed her lips feeling that if they weren't tightly closed she might scream bloody murder. This semester was going to be hell for her. Fuck that guy. She felt like she was about to explode on him. She wanted to go off on him. She needed to punch something. She didn't even want to show up at her mother's house. She feared she would be god awful after that had just occurred today. First she almost was annihilated on her way to class, second she was given a 'C' by the devil himself.

ooOoo

Bulma sucked down the cigarette quickly and lit up another one before she boarded the bus and headed to her mother's house. She hated being around the hordes of coughing, sniveling human- beings loudly chatting in the back and trashing the bus each and every day and night. She knew she needed a car, but she was completely broke. It seemed that she never had enough money and she wouldn't ask for money ever. The woman she called 'mom' did too much already. She respected the woman far too much to ask her for anything.

As Bulma arrived a few blocks from her mother's she pondered what the night entailed. She was nervous to see who was here to speak to her. She feared it more than anything else in the world. She didn't want to leave again. She had called this home for so many years. She knew there would surely be a nice meal, but she wondered who the visitor would be.

Bulma pushed some of her brown locks from her face and pulled out the house keys, pressing it into the small slit and bumping the door open.

"I'm here, mom." Bulma called out, allowing her blue orbs to scan her surroundings.

"I'm in the kitchen, dear." Her mother called loudly. The smell of dinner wafted into the hallway, beckoning her to the kitchen and immediately causing her mouth to water.

Bulma's belly immediately began to rumble and she realized she had yet to eat. She hadn't placed one item into her mouth since the morning, which consisted of coffee and a pop tart. She slowly entered the kitchen and placed her backpack on the tabletop, looking between the two people that sat before her.

A small brunette stood near the stovetop, adding butter to the mashed potatoes that were most likely at the perfect consistency. She could smell the chicken cooking in the oven. Her mother truly had a knack for cooking. That of course wasn't all. She created beautiful works of art in the form of floral arrangements. She owned her own flower shop and she did extremely well in her town. She was trusted and always pleased her customers. Even the surrounded towns supported her. She had just recently opened a brand new shop, which she hired more staff and this gave her more space to work. She was a busy woman that is why Bulma was so surprised that she was able to come home and actually enjoy cooking a supper like this.

"Hey B," Her mother's brilliant smile immediately caught her attention, which the small woman stopped what she was doing and pulled her in for a bear hug, "How is school? I know you are doing great." The older woman pulled back and placed a kiss on the young woman's cheek before returning to the meal she was preparing for her daughter and guest.

Bulma smiled and returned the favor to her mom. She followed her mother toward the kitchen, leaning against the counter while keeping a close eye on the bald headed man seated at the table sipping his cup of iced tea. She licked her lips nervously before finally speaking.

"Hello…?" She paused and looked the man up and down, hoping he would finish by answering her quickly.

"Hi there," He nodded, standing up quickly. His body towered over her small form, causing her to wrap her arms protectively around her waist. Her blue eyes shifted toward her mother, who was humming softly and concentrating on the food.

He was a large man, but was dressed in a nice suit with no badge was present. Was he a cop? The large man finally drew closer and reached out his monster hand, "Bulma is it?"

Bulma's eyes widened a bit as she backed away, unable to take the man's hand, "I don't go by that name, who in the hell are you?"

"B, come on now, this is the reason why I had to come for dinner, dear. This is Nappa Johnson. He is the new FBI agent that will be taking over Bill's spot, sweetie." The woman's sweet smile calmed her just a trifle, before she allowed her eyes to slip back upon him once again.

"What happened to Bill?" Bulma pressed her rear against the counter top and looked the bulky FBI agent up and down carefully.

"I am sorry to say that Bill had been fighting cancer for some time. He has just recently passed. I hear you had not heard from him in about a year?" Nappa offered her a kind smile under his mustache and took a drink from his tea.

The man obviously noticed how uncomfortably she was with him, so he stepped back a ways and put a good distance between the both of them, watching her carefully.

"Yeah, that is right. I haven't heard from him in quite some time, but usually that is a good thing. I mean I know your group is constantly watching and checking up, but usually that is a good thing. Not that I didn't enjoy Bill's company." Bulma blinked a few times and licked her lips, shifting her curious gaze toward her mother, who was frowning with regret.

"He was a good man. I know it isn't something you wished, but someone had to take the case, so I was assigned." Nappa explained and then offered his hand once again.

Bulma inspected the large calloused hand a moment before taking it in her warm grasp and shook it, "Nice to meet you, Nappa." She cleared her throat and sat at the table with him; "Nothing is happening that I need to be aware of, right?" she looked upon his serious face, showing him her concern.

"No, Miss. Briefs." He shook his head.

"Please use my other alias. I do not go by Bulma Briefs any longer. I do not feel comfortable with that name." she swallowed hard and pushed her dark brown locks from her eyes.

"I am sorry, Miss. Williams. I understand. But I will repeat this once again, there is no threat. This meeting is only to introduce myself." He placed a hand to his large chest and offered her another kind smile.

"Don't worry, B. The head of his division even contacted me and offered his background. He is held at high esteems. I actually had a meeting with them a few weeks back, after…Bill passed." Lorelei Williams said softly in her usual soft tone.

"Alright, but it still doesn't change the fact that I have no clue who he is." Bulma said truthfully.

"I understand that, Brandi. I will do my best to prove to you that I am just as good, if not better, than Bill." Nappa nodded to her and stood, looking to her mother, Lorelei

"Dinner is done, let's get the table prepared and we can continue this, right dear?" Lorelei asked softly, placing a reassuring hand upon Bulma's tight shoulder.

"Yes, that is fine, mom. What do you need help with?" She sniffed softly, grabbing anything that was handed to her.

The group set the table and ate, which Nappa discussed how useful he was going to be to this household. Bulma didn't care two shits about what this man had to say. Bill was everything to her. He was the first person to be there for her and the first person to find her. He told her everything was going to be alright and she believed him. He had kept his word time and time again. He never let anything happen to her new family, or her.

She felt bad for Bill's death. Bulma felt a ball forming in her throat, yet something was missing. She couldn't even cry over his death. Was she broken? She had a hard time showing any sort of emotion after the ordeal. Of course Professor Asshole was different. He just pissed her off, which that was a normal emotion. Anger was one of the emotions she was able to show, and quite often especially if she grew irritated with her fellow students. That happened daily.

Bulma couldn't say that she didn't have any emotions because she did, but she definitely had a hard time displaying them to those she cared about. Her mother was the only one that truly got to see that, and even that took years. Lorelei was a patient and understanding woman with her and that is what she loved about her mother.

Bulma chewed her meal carefully, trying desperately to tune out the chatter her mother was creating with this FBI agent. She honestly hoped he didn't try any smooth moves on her mother. Yes, she was going there. She didn't like this new agent. It was because she didn't trust many people. Her mother was young and pretty, and she had had too many failed relationships that hurt her immensely. She didn't want her mother hurt anymore, especially with this beast of a man, yuck. It had been just the two of them majority of the time. Bulma looked up, taking in the man's intense expression. She knew she judged people hard sometimes. He did seem nice enough. He was dedicated, which she liked. She just didn't like change. It was harder for her now more than ever. She quickly finished her meal and tried to leave. She hoped the guy didn't stay long after she left. Lorelei needed to be at the shop bright and early.

"Mom, I have tons of homework. I will be back in a few days that ok?" Bulma asked her, wrapping a protect arm around her mother's neck.

"Of course, dear, school is everything. You need to get your rest. Let me grab my keys and I will take you back," the older woman said, pushing her chair back and standing to make her way to the kitchen.

"Good-bye Nappa." She nodded to him and gripped her bag, "Mom, I will call Steph. She will come get me."

"Oh B, are you sure? What about some left overs?" Lorelei rushed to the stove to collect a portable container.

"No," Bulma chuckled, pressing the phone to her ear.

" _Hookers-r-us, how may I help you?" her roommate replied._

"I need a ride, please? I am at moms and I think it is a bit too dark to walk home." Bulma chuckled softly, not giving her the satisfaction to hearing her laugh.

" _Alright, bitch. I will be there soon. Tell your momma 'hi' for me." she asked quickly._

"Yep," Bulma nodded and looked back at her chatting mother.

" _Be there in a bit."_

Bulma hung up quickly and walked to the door, plopping down on the small wooden bench. Her mother quickly came around the corner with a smile upon her features.

"Hi honey, I hope Nappa didn't rush you out. I miss seeing your sweet face." Lorelei said softly, rubbing her hands together softly.

"Mom," Bulma tilted her head to the side, "I am fine, you know I am fine. Everything will be fine." The young woman tried to reassure her.

"Do you need any money?" her mother's eyebrows raised.

"God mom, no." Bulma shook her head.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, mom I am all good. I promise." Bulma finally gave her a satisfying look, which calmed her immediately. Lorelei gave her another hug for the road and waved, leaving her alone. Bulma let out a sigh of relief. The woman always knew when to give her space.

Brightly lit car lights blazed down the length of her mother's driveway, causing her to jump up and rush to the waiting vehicle. Bulma pulled open the sports car and slipped in. She tossed her bag to the floor and shifted her gaze to her peppy friend who was dancing and singing to her 'party mix' on her iPod. The brunette smiled and chuckled seeing her friend dressed in her party garb.

"Time to go out!" Stephanie said in an excited tone.

"What?" Bulma blinked and shook her head, "Hell no, Steph. I have class tomorrow and I have tons of homework."

"Yep, you heard me. You haven't gone out with me in forever." The blonde bomb shell threw her car into reverse and peeled out of the driveway down the busy street.

"We just went out on Monday night. I am not sure I can do it again. I have class tomorrow and work, dude." Bulma admitted, rubbing her face with her hands.

"Oh shut up, cranky ass. You barely drank. It didn't even count. We are so going out tonight. We are going to the bars this time. It's nothing like 'Thirsty Thursday's', but it is dollar beer and other specials on mixed drinks. A friend told me about it. I figured since you called and I am such a great friend picking you up, you had to be my first victim." She chuckled loudly.

"I look like shit, Steph." Bulma frowned deeply, pulling the mirror down and inspecting her face that had barely anything to cover up her flaws.

"Take of that sweater and take down her hair. That isn't a request. You will look sexy." The beautiful blonde smiled and chuckled softly, "Plus, you barely need to try and for some reason all the guys want you. Poor guys don't know what they are up against when taking you on." She winked playfully.

"Whatever, I will go only one more time before the weekend. One of my Professors is a Nazi, and I need to be an overachiever with this one." Bulma chuckled, pulling down her hair and swishing it around, "Did I tell you, I almost was killed today." She added.

"Take off that top, sexy lady." Steph gripped the stirring wheel tightly while turning the music station, but paused and shifted her smoky gaze upon her friend, "What?"

Bulma quickly took off the top, showing off a cute tank underneath. She wasn't comfortable with a simple, but nice tank with a pair of jeans, but she was going to be dragged no matter what.

"Yep, I was almost hit by my professor. He even threatened to dock me points for 'stupidity'." Bulma chuckled softly.

"Um, I don't think he can do that without getting into trouble. Did you ever think he was joking?" Steph raised a brow, handing her a lip-gloss container.

"Steph, if you met him you would not even have suggested he was joking. The man doesn't even smile. Unless he had a dry sense of humor that I have no idea about. He is weird." Bulma applied her gloss and rubbed her full lips together.

"Is he hot?" Steph asked finally.

"Shut up," Bulma shook her head, looking out the window.

The young blonde laughed out loud as she turned into the bar. Stephanie was dead set on getting a drink and she needed a smoke. Bulma pulled her pack of cigarettes as well as her fake ID and headed toward the entrance of the bar. She placed the cigarette in her mouth and quickly got her fix before heading to the doors. Stephanie already clung to her arm, pulling her along as they entered to stop before the bouncers who immediately carded the duo as usual.

Bulma's blue eyes scanned the bumping bar. The crowed of people swarmed the bar area, calling out drinks to the bartender. She couldn't believe she left her mother's house to come to a bar. She was sure Lorelei wouldn't be pleased if she found out.

Groups of people were seated in the high top tables located around the bar, chatting it up with hookups or friends. She swallowed hard and smiled as Steph already was headed to the bar, chatting up a recent hook up who she knew she could get free drinks off of. Bulma slowly made her way toward an open seat, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the quality of people located in the small area. This was the life of a college student. Do your homework, go to class, go to a part time job if you could find out, and spend your parents money at the bars until the early hours of the morning.

Her eyes scanned the half-dressed groups dancing on the floor, gripping one another's hips and grinding. Kissing one another and groping was a popular thing amongst the drunk when music was added to the mix. Bulma couldn't complain for she liked sexual contact when she had a few drinks in her. She hadn't gotten her fill in quite some time, and she wasn't interested tonight, but she couldn't help but notice the people coupling off for the night. Go to the bars or house parties to find a hook-up. There was nothing more awkward than the morning after. She flipped her hair and exhaled softly, shifting her eyes around the crowd looking for her friend.

Her attention was gained as a woman burst out laughing loudly, a little too loud. She could hear it over the music. Her eyes flashed toward the disturbing cackle to see a beautiful black-haired woman, stirring her straw in a mixed drink. She was biting seductively on her manicured nail and leaning in toward the man…she…was with. Bulma's eyes widened.

In a nice button down shirt and a pair of nice blue jeans, that fit the bars atmosphere, sat her professor. He had a drink of his own and he was grinning, leaning back in his chair and speaking in a quiet voice. She couldn't read his lips and she definitely didn't want to spend her time trying to figure it out. She feared he would see her. He looked nice, especially the way his shirt was slightly unbuttoned, showing off a hairless chest. It wasn't too much, but he definitely looked bare chested. Bulma then began to wonder if he had wash board abs.

_No fuckin' way…_

She cut off her perverted thoughts and glanced back at the woman, growing more curious. He had a girlfriend? That poor woman! Bulma's anxiety began to rise quickly. She didn't want him to see her at the bar. Who knows, the guy might actually dock her points for not doing homework like a good student. God, she really hoped he didn't see her.

Stephanie returned and slid her a shot and a mixed drink. Bulma gripped the shot and downed it quickly, licking her lips. Steph's mouth dropped open.

"Damn, you thirsty?" Steph threw back her head taking her shot down quickly.

She had to give her Professor kudos, the woman was gorgeous. Was he married? He didn't have a band that she remembered. How could that woman stand his presence? What shocked her the most was that he was able to charm a woman like that for even a moment to get her to go out with him. Bulma was sure that it would only take time for the woman to realize that a slimy, piece of work he was. Unless he was a good lay, which she was quite interested in finding out. She shook her head. How inappropriate to even be thinking. Gosh, she had problems lately.

"Brandi, what are you looking at? You hoo?" Steph called, tapping her shoulder.

"Sorry," Bulma smiled softly, pushing back her hair.

"What, scoping out some man candy?" she asked her friend, wiggling her brows.

"Um, not quite, it is a teacher of mine. Over there," Bulma nodded toward the table, causing Stephanie to look obnoxiously in the couple's direction.

"That…is your professor?" Steph's mouth dropped open, as her eyes scanned the length of his body, "He is fine. I bet he has a big dick." The blonde's lips pursed as she looked upon her appalled friend.

"Oh shut up, I have not once looked at him in that way. You are such a perv." Bulma lied shaking her head as she ran a hand nervously through her hair.

"Yes, so you have told me over and over again. What is new? I am a nympho; I like sex, so fucking what. You should so tap that, or so help me god I so will." Steph leaned over the table and sipped dramatically on her straw.

"Not on my mind, go for it." Bulma chuckled.

"Brandi, I know you like to get your rocks off. How long has it been? Why not a sexy and young professor? I bet he knows how to work it and I am sure you wouldn't be the first. Shit if not him, someone." Stephanie shrugged and sipped her drink, licking her lips clean.

"Steph, you don't know shit about this guy. He is nuts. He is like the ultimate asshole and he is not someone I would like to hold a conversation with long than I have to, let alone enjoy a session of sex with him. The guy most likely wouldn't even know how to please a woman seeing how he treats his students. He is a horrible teacher. I am sure he isn't very sociable." Bulma waved her hand around, peaking back hearing the woman laugh once again.

"You're not social able. You're a royal bitch." Steph snorted out a laugh, causing Bulma to roll her eyes, "You would be perfect together!"

How is it possible that that man had it in him to make a women laugh, shit he didn't know how to get a smile out of any of his students. What did he say? She grew even more curious.

"You could show him a thing or two." Steph smiled slyly.

"Whatever, out of the question." Bulma said softly, sipping contently on her mixed drink, ignoring her friend's comments about Professor Dickhead.

Bulma finished with her drink, standing and heading toward the bar. She pushed her hair behind her ear and told the busy bartender her order, waiting for him to bring back the finished product so she could pay. She offered him cash and pressed the straw to her lips, taking its contents in large gulps. She turned slowly and looked toward the table where her professor and his lady friend were sitting. They had left. Bulma frowned slightly and made her way back to her seat.

She couldn't help but wonder if he was taking her home that evening. She still was in complete awe that he had a woman that was honestly interested in him. He was an asshole, a sadist, a lunatic, and unfortunately he had an incredibly nice ass and a sexy grin. Damn, she hated him so much. Bulma sat back in her chair and leaned against the wall, propping her leg up. Her friend had disappeared once again.

Stephanie was making conversation with the bartender that she hooked up with at a party a few nights back. She seemed to completely forget about her. Bulma didn't honestly care. She was glad to have some time alone. Stephanie could be a little over the top at times, yet she loved her all the same. She would never admit that to her though. It would go to her head.

Bulma watched as the line to the bathroom was out the entry way. As she watched the groups stumble their way into the restrooms a dark haired woman exited. She fixed her wavy hair that draped down the length of her back and pulled her purse up on her shoulder. Her hips rolled with each step as she headed toward the exit. Bulma placed the straw between her lips, watching the woman leave. She felt like a creep, but she was just completely in shock that that horrible man landed a woman like that. Her blue eyes swept the bar, watching Stephanie lean over the bar, giving her boy toy a nice view of her breasts. She glanced back over toward the door and the young woman was leaving. Her breath hitched in her throat as a pair of black eyes caught her briefly. Her Professor had spotted her, but how? There was way too much going on for him to notice. Shit, she was screwed. Bulma looked into her glance and slowly glanced up to see a grin form on her professors lips as he shook his head and guided his date out the door.

Mr. Ouji only grinned and shook his head, nothing more nothing less. He had seen her that was that. He didn't look back or pay any attention as he walked past the open windows looking into the bar. It was as if he had not seen her at all.

He professor was an enigma. She hated him for that. She didn't like how easily he could blow her off. It was constant. Here and even in class. He liked to pick on her, yet ignore her at the right times. She wanted more. She needed more. Why? Because she was nuts, that is why.

She was a foolish woman, and she knew this.

ooOoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think!
> 
> -Mallie-3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unmasked
> 
> Chapter 3
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

ooOoo

The weekend came quicker than expected. Her classes were pretty decent, even the one she dreaded going to. Mr. Ouji had been acting somewhat civil to the class. There were no surprise quizzes, tests, or papers. Of course she did get stuck reading 3-4 chapters out of the book each night and they were not short by any means.

Her other courses weren't as rough on her, but they had homework assigned, like any college course. She knew it wouldn't be easy, but she wasn't complaining about the class work itself. She felt in control of her other courses to an extent. It was that one little class that caused her brain to scramble.

It was three thirty in the afternoon when she arrived at work. Her night shift didn't start until four, but with the bus schedules, she wasn't ever sure if she would make it on time. As she walked down the sidewalk and up the ramp toward the door, she tossed a half smoked cigarette butt to the ground. She opened the door and quickly made her way back behind the counter.

She didn't have long shifts over the weekends. Unfortunately, unless you asked for the weekend off far in advance, college students were required to work on the weekends. She understood. Bulma wasn't one to pass up extra cash if it was available. There were plenty of people she knew who were working only twelve hours a week and that was if they begged. She needed cash because god only knew she hated asked her mother for money. That women had enough she had to deal with.

Bulma huffed and pushed some strands of hair behind her ear. She glanced up to see her boss talking to, what looked like, a new employee. He was wearing the usual black dress pants, a white t-shirt and the company apron. How manly. She didn't understand why they made the men where those things. His hair was extremely dark, from what she could see. It was neatly combed in the back, and he looked to have it in a messy arrangement in the front. She could only see his profile, but after moments of waiting she grew bored with the idea and began to count in her drawer so she could allow the current cashier leave.

"Brandi," her boss called to her, causing her to look up and roll her eyes. She roughly shoved the drawer into the register and smiled at the incoming guests.

"I will be _right_ with you," She drew out before turned, causing her long ponytail to flip over her shoulder. She made her way toward the only office in the entire building, which she liked to call the pantry, "Yes?" She asked, putting on an annoyed smile, if it could be considered that.

Her boss chuckled softly, shaking his head and pointing to the young man standing next to him, "I wanted to introduce the newest employee. He just moved here this semester and I figured he would be a good fit. I know training someone on the register isn't too hard, so I am sure in no time he will get it." The older gentleman nodded, glancing up at Bulma to see her eyes were wide and her smile was no longer visible.

The young man was chuckling, "You," Bulma said rudely before crossing her arms over her chest, "Is this some kind of joke?"

"Brandi, what…?" Her boss raised a thick eyebrow and glanced in the man's direction.

"It is alright," He patted his new boss on the shoulder, "We will get along great, thank you." He nodded quickly before running his hands through his amazing hair.

"Very well, Brandi, you be nice now." He scolded, giving her that look and then disappearing into his office to answer more phone calls from the businesses corporation about company policies and so on.

Bulma's eyes narrowed slightly as she turned and completely ignored the man following her. She brushed her hair over her shoulder and offered a fake smile to the waiting customers. She took their order calmly as the young man watched her carefully. He observed the way she took the credit cards, swiped them, took and counted cash. She was gentle. Her personality said otherwise. She was an interesting woman that was for sure.

"Thank you and you can wait down there for your coffee to come up." She quickly wiped the smile from her face and turned to the guy again, looking him up and down.

"Well, I don't know what I could have possibly done to you, but if I didn't know any better I could probably say that your body language is telling me you hate me." He chuckled, glancing over her shoulder at the register, which he still knew nothing about.

"You got that right, John, Peter, David, or whatever your name is." Bulma huffed and glanced toward the entrance, avoiding eye contact with him.

Yamcha chuckled softly, "It is Yamcha," he corrected her, leaning in against the counter and glancing up at her beautifully formed face.

Bulma shifted her eyes to the side, making eye contact with him once more, "Does it look like I give a fuck?"

"No, it doesn't, but I guess I am just confused as to why you are so mad at me. I haven't done anything wrong." Yamcha smiled softly, pissing her off more. Why was he still trying to make conversation with her?

"Look, I know your little game here. You wouldn't stop pestering me in class. You were going on about how you were going to," She put up her hands; making quotations with them and rolling her eyes, "break through that 'barrier' bull shit. You are a pathetic stalker, I am convinced." Bulma smirked, shaking her head and leaning against the resister.

Yamcha's smug look disappeared as he blinked a few times, "You are really full of yourself." He pointed out, straightening his body as he frowned now, "Did you ever think that I just needed a job and this was one of the few places that were offering a job."

Bulma went to open her mouth, but closed it and swallowed, "Well, you have to admit, you were being super pushy in class. It just seemed odd that I happen to find you working at the same place only a few days later." She turned, running a hand over the screen, dusting off non-existent debris.

"Brandi was it?" Yamcha asked, leaning in, forcing her to look at him once again.

Bulma turned, giving him a suspicious look. She took in a deep breath and nodded, biting her lower lip. She knew she was being a jackass. She couldn't help it. Stephanie had it worse, that was for sure. She was shocked that girl put up with her shit half the time. Bulma cleared her throat and turned to face the register as new customers dropped in and looked up at the ordering board, speaking quietly to themselves.

"I take that nod as a 'Yes'." He whispered, "I hope you can see I am not some creepy guy stalking you." Bulma glanced to the side and frowned, giving him a funny look before putting on a fake smile as the couple walked up to her register and ordered.

"They give you options here," Bulma calmed briefly and pointed to each button, and then motioning to the size options, "Your total will show up here," She pointed and then told the customers their total. She collected their money carefully, offering them their change.

The brunette was quiet a moment, rocking back and forth on her toes and heels. Yamcha watched her a moment, tapping his fingers on the counter top and observing the atmosphere of the coffee shop. He chewed his cheek and glanced over as the other employee's quickly made the drinks that were ordered. The smells in this place were amazing. It made him want his own personal coffee, and maybe something out of the cooler.

"I am not always a complete bitch you know," Bulma looked up and blinked a few times, giving him a side glance.

"You had me fooled," Yamcha walked closer to her and chuckled, getting a better look at her. He couldn't help but check out her rear as she looked away. Of course he wasn't about to get caught so he quit quickly.

Bulma turned and frowned, noticing his grin and changing her whole attitude, "You're a dick. Well, you know it seems like you like being pushed around by women. What you can't handle your own, Yamcha? Are you too much of a little bitch?" She glanced toward him, grinning softly. She quickly pursed her lips, mentally kicking herself for being a little too open with this man. What was wrong with her? First her teacher and now semi-flirting with this new guy, who for all she knew could be a creeper.

"For your information, Brandi, I can handle my own. I like my women with a little spice to them if you are wondering." He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced up at her. Those dark eyes blazed with interest, "You know, if I didn't know any better, I might think you were flirting with me." Yamcha narrowed his eyes.

Bulma straightened her back and shook her head, "I think you got it all wrong, Yamcha." She said his name a little too enthusiastically, causing the young man to chuckle.

"You better be careful, I might think you are starting to like me. It hasn't even been more than a half hour, looks like that barrier is starting to crack." He winked at her, showing off his amazingly white set of teeth.

"Dude, shut up with the damn barrier crap. You sound like an idiot saying shit like that." Bulma chuckled softly, brushing her bangs from her eyes and trying hard not to smile any more. She already had the guy thinking they would somehow become BFF's.

"Good lord, does your mother know you talk like that?" His dark eyes widened as he looked her over.

"Does your mother know you are a creep who likes to stalk women?" Bulma raised a brow.

"Alright, one last time, I am not a stalker. Honesty," Yamcha opened his palms and laughed out loud.

"Sure, that is what they all say." Bulma nodded, glancing toward the entrance as the bell sounded once again, "Alright, how about you do all the work. I will be your guide. Also, just so we are clear, we are not friends." She shifted a finger between the two and shoved him toward the drawer.

Yamcha grinned playfully and nodded, "Yes ma'am,"

The time seemed to drag on and on. Eight-thirty slowly came and she was allowed to close her draw and begin using the drawer the managers set aside just in case it got busy. She thought it was a good idea. Her manager was pretty easy going and liked them to get out on time. Plus he knew she took the bus each night. In order for her to catch it she had to get out at nine on the dot.

Yamcha seemed to catch on quickly and before she knew it she was messing with her phone, or reading a few pages out of her school books for class on Monday. She hoped she got new employee's that worked like this all the time. She could get her homework done at work and go home and relax, maybe even get a good night sleep for once.

Bulma gripped her bag and threw it over her shoulder as she said good-bye to the manager and then walked toward the exit. She didn't once say a thing to Yamcha. She didn't think he deserved that quiet yet. She was a bitch; there was no getting around it. She honestly just didn't want him to think they were anything more than fellow employee's trying to get along to make the work day slightly better. Bulma didn't want to be friends with this guy, not ever. For all she knew he was trying to get in her pants, and there was no way that would happen.

"Brandi," he shouted just before she made it to the door.

Her hands pressed against the metal bar, putting slight pressure on it. She closed her eyes and grumbled under her breath. Bulma glanced over her shoulder and made eye contact with him a moment, but said nothing what so ever.

"Hey, do you take the bus home?" Yamcha asked her, zipping up his coat and putting his hands deep into his pockets.

"Why?" Bulma asked him, tilting her head to the side and narrowing those beautiful blue eyes.

"Well," He paused and looked out the window, "I have a car. I can take you back to where you live."

Bulma began to laugh out loud, placing a hand on her chest and looking out the window, "Yea that sounds like a great idea. Allow you to take me home so you know where I live. Sure!" Bulma pushed the door open and began to leave, shaking her head in the process.

Yamcha jogged after her, "Stop with this stalker shit, seriously. I am not a stalker. Is it wrong to want to get to know you?" He asked her, grabbing her upper arm.

"Yes," She nodded, pulling away and kept on walking, growing more agitated by the second.

"Look, it is super cold out here. The bus doesn't come for another fifteen minutes. Let me take you home just this once." Yamcha watched her ponder it for a moment.

"Look, Yamcha, thanks for the offer. I just don't have any gas money to give you." Bulma let out a breath, "Not to mention I smoke and I would like to have one right now."

"That is fine, I do to. Smoke in my car, a warm car." He offered, grinning softly, "and don't worry about the money. It is alright."

…

..

.

Bulma pulled the seatbelt tight, glancing out the window and pushing the button, making it roll down slightly. She took in a deep breath and pulled out a cigarette from her pack, placing it between her lips.

Yamcha did the same, lighting his and taking in a deep breath. He glanced to the side and chuckled seeing how cold she was, "I have heated seats don't you know." He pushed button, activating the seats, which within moments began to heat her rear end.

"Thanks, seriously don't make a habit of this, Yamcha." Bulma blinked a few times and took a long drag.

"You're welcome," was the only thing he said as he took off down the road, "So, you live in an apartment or the dorms?"

"Dorms," She whispered softly as the cool air floated in and hit her face, causing her to shiver.

Yamcha raised a brow, taking a drag from his cigarette and glancing to the side, "So, which one?"

"Do you know where Anderson Hall is?" Once Yamcha nodded, she continued, "Turn right on the street before it. It is that dorm building behind it."

"Oh, alright," He nodded, flicking his ashes and taking another drag as he sped around a corner, causing Bulma to slide around in her seat.

"Gosh, slow down. Do you want to get into a wreck?" Bulma gripped her 'oh shit' bar and blinked rapidly, hoping to god she wouldn't burn herself with her lit cigarette.

"Scared?" Yamcha asked, cocking a brow, but keeping his eyes on the road.

"A little, why, are you enjoying this?" Bulma screamed as he slammed on the excel orator, "Yamcha, you piece of shit, stop. Do you want a ticket, or something?"

Yamcha burst out laughing and pulled around the circle, which led right up to the front of her dorm, "So, what room are you in and when do you usually take a shower?" He wiggled his brows at her as he threw his car into park.

Bulma frowned and shook her head, "You are a freak," A smile formed on her lips as she turned her back to him.

"See you around, Brandi." He smiled and gave a small wave.

Bulma flipped him off and rushed to the doors of the building. Yamcha watched her and began to chuckle softly to himself before driving off.

ooOoo

Monday came quick, but of course her weekend was ruined with work and a surprised paper. Mr. Ouji thought it was a great idea to assign a paper on Saturday night. Thankful she checked her e-mail after Yamcha had dropped her off, or she would have been screwed. She was angry about the paper, but it seemed to be enough to convince Steph not to try and drag her to any parties that particular night. Sunday was an easy day and thank goodness, Yamcha was not scheduled. She had a calm weekend and she was able to write, what she thought, was a decent paper.

As Bulma entered the Psychology hall she made her way through the mass of students rushing in and out of the rooms, or making their way to their next class. She side stepped numerous times and weaved around those who were in her way. She was fifteen minutes early to her class. There was barely anyone in the classroom when she entered. Not even that annoying man named Yamcha was there. She sighed softly and sat down in her chair.

"You can put that paper on my desk," A deep voice said from behind her, causing her to jump. Bulma glanced over her shoulder.

Mr. Ouji had a pair of glasses low on his nose as he watched the screen of his Apple laptop, without once glancing toward her. His strong hand gripped his chiseled jaw tightly. His eyebrows knitted as he concentrated on whatever he was watching.

Her slightly glossy lips parted as she narrowed her eyes at him, watching closely. She tilted her head to the side and looked away, noticing his brief case was lying casually on top of his desk. How did she not notice that? Damn, he was a sneaky bastard. She stood up and slowly made her way toward the desk located at the front of the classroom and tossed the paper casually on top, looking up to take notice of the assignment and a reminder that a test would be given on Friday. Of course, it had to be Friday, just before the weekend. Bulma sneered before turning. She gasped softly as her teacher as silently made his way to the front of the room without her knowledge and was now standing before her with a strangely curious expression.

She blinked a few times and looked down, unaware of what to do. He was watching her carefully as she crossed her arms over her chest and looked up slowly. Bulma glanced over her shoulder to see her paper was in the middle of his desk. What more did he want? Why was he looking at her as if he had something to say?

Vegeta tilted his head to the side and began to frown. He looked around the room and pursed his lips, "Are you going to move?" He blinked a few times, looking around her at the small amount of papers.

Bulma blinked a few times, completely thrown off, "Um," was all she could say as she lowered her head and dodged her teacher, slipping up the stairs and plopping into her seat. She was completely embarrassed. Everyone was looking at her. She looked like a complete and utter fool. Her mouth had been hanging open and everything. Bulma covered her face with a hand and shook her head.

She glanced up to see his back was still to the class as he flipped through the paper in his hand. Bulma's eyebrows knitted. Was he looking through her paper? It seemed like him. It seemed to get him off to pick on her. She wasn't surprised if in a moment….

"Ms. Williams," Vegeta Ouji turned around and glanced up at her through his square frames.

She let out a slow breath and watched him, saying nothing to him. He knew she was looking. He knew he had her attention.

"I need to speak with you after class." He merely stated before collecting the rest of the papers in his hand and looking around the class.

Bulma closed her eyes and sighed softly, pressing her fingertips to her temples. She could already feel a headache coming on. She didn't need any more of this teacher's bullshit. Honestly, why was he constantly looking to her? It seemed that there was no one else in the class that was doing wrong. It was only her that he seemed to take notice to. She wouldn't particularly mind if it was a nice professor. Someone who honestly gave a shit about her grade, but to him they were just a damn number.

Vegeta Ouji started lecturing. He pulled up his plain Jane PowerPoint and began to discuss the chapters that they were supposed to read over the weekend. He always had a bored tone when he was speaking to the class. Luckily for her, he no longer seemed to notice she was even in the class. She answered a few of his questions and he nodded, pleased with each one.

Bulma was more relaxed, but it still didn't calm her enough not to worry about that the jack ass would say to her once he got her alone. She finally convinced herself that it would be better if it was after class anyway because then everyone would fly out of the room and no one would be listening to their conversation, which most likely would result in her feeling like an even bigger pile of shit.

The dark haired girl doodled on her paper, sitting back and relaxing near the end of class as Mr. Ouji put on a small video clip, which he said would take till the end of the class period anyway. Her eyes skimmed to the empty seat of that Yamcha character, taking notice he had skipped and shook her head. He wasn't off to a good start. Her eyes lifted to the projection screen once again. She had watched this particular video once before. She wasn't too worried about paying close attention. Not to mention he was in the back of the room again, messing with his laptop. She glanced over her shoulder only a few times, hoping he wouldn't catch her watching him and each slight expression he made. She found it extremely annoying that she especially liked the way he looked as the light from the screen touched all the right places, bringing out the manly structures in his jaw and cheek bones. She closed her eyes and shoved her pencil back into her case, packing up everything as the video came to a close. It would only be a matter of time now until they were all dismissed and she would be alone with him.

"See you all Wednesday." Mr. Ouji said loudly as everyone began to pile out of the room. One of the students turned back on the light as they left. Bulma sat quietly in her seat as she looked around the room, pursing her lips, waiting for her teacher to say something.

She could hear him typing behind her. He was ignoring her. She knew he was making her wait for him to be done. That was just the type of guy he was. He liked to push and pick until a person cracked and then he liked to make them feel like a complete jackass. She finally got fed up; since she knew she had another class in the same building in about an hour. She had plenty of time but she wasn't about to wait forever. Bulma turned in her chair and gripped the back of it, watching him with narrowed eyes.

"Excuse me, Mr. Ouji? I am waiting down here. Can you hurry up and pick apart my paper so I can leave?" the brown haired woman asked him, pulling her bag over her shoulder and popping her hip.

The older man raised those obsidian eyes and glared in her direction. He was not thrilled by her rude commentary, but honestly Bulma could care less how he felt. She was tired of his crap. He stood up and straightened his dress shirt and made his way down the steps toward her seat with her paper.

He tossed the paper on her desk and raised a brow. Vegeta regarded her quickly as her eyes scanned to the paper, which in red lettering had a 'D' plastered upon it. Bulma's features tightened. She gasped softly and gripped it between her fingers.

"I did everything you asked, it isn't my fault you assigned it through e-mail at the last minute." Bulma nearly shouted at him. She met eyes with him, completely unafraid of his response.

"You know, I am sick and tired of you picking on me. Why not someone else?" She threw up her hand and shoved the paper back into his chest.

"I think you can do better than this. You weren't even trying. What I was going to tell you, Ms. Williams, was that I am going to allow you to re-write it for Wednesday. I never offer this, so take advantage of it."

Bulma wiggled her fingers near her face and made a funny expression, "Oh Mr. Teacher, thank you so much for your concern. I am so glad you are allowing me to re-do my paper. How considerate of you. I think just because you decide this one time to give me a break, it will completely make up for the entire week and a half that you have been badgering me. Thank you." She gave him a fake smile for a brief moment before frowning and picking up her bag to leave.

Vegeta Ouji raised a brow and watched her leave, saying nothing at first. He took in a deep breath and called out for her, "I won't tell you again, Brandi." He said in a low tone, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes, I will re-do the paper, why would I want to keep a 'D'?" Bulma asked him, shaking her head and leaving.

He raised a brow and slowly made his way toward his computer. Vegeta would stop and glance over his shoulder every once and a while. He sat back in his chair and grinned softly to himself. He closed his laptop screen and collected his things, glancing at his wrist watch.

…

..

.

Bulma stormed the hallways, contemplating going to the Deans office. She was so frustrated with this man. She tried to calm herself. He was allowing her to re-do it, which was completely unlike him, but still. She was tired of it. She had never in all her years of college had a teacher who constantly picked her out from the rest of the class. Everyone in the class knew who the bad egg was. She was tired of it.

She contemplated for at least thirty minutes whether or not to go to Dean and report him. She even pulled out a pen and paper to write each little detail out. She had to figure out what she wanted to say before approaching this Dean. She didn't want to look like a whiny little kid, complaining because the teacher who gave her one measly 'D' on a paper, which was not the case. There was more to it.

Bulma pushed her loose hair behind her ears and walked toward the front desk. A lady with a headset sat working on a crossword puzzle. The old woman glanced up and smiled sweetly at her, pulling the window open so she could hear her speak.

"Hello dear, what can I help you with?" She asks her, chewing her gum loudly.

Bulma pursed her lips and glanced up toward the visible upper level of this particular hall. She licked her lips and leaned in, "I need to speak with the Dean of the Phycology department." She blinked a few times, "I am not sure where to find this person."

The older woman nodded quickly, closing her eyes in the process. She pointed to the stairs that lay directly over the box she called her office and smiled, "You see these stairs? You will go up these stairs. Take a left and walk all the way down until you see 'B 200s'. Once you get there, she is all the way down the hall. She has her own private section and majority of the time it is locked. I am not sure if she is in today. You might need to leave a note in her mailbox." The lady nodded and winked at her as Bulma looked down at her, raising a brow.

"Thank you very much," The brunette nodded, situating the strap of her bag on her shoulder as she turned and made her way toward the stairs. She practically ran up the steps and around down the hallway before slowing her pace. She took in a deep breath and held the note pad of hateful words pressed tightly to her breasts. Her blue eyes scanned around the hall, looking for signs that directed her toward the 'B200' section of the upper floor.

As she made it to the end of that particular hallway she noticed a separate section. On the door was a sign that said the Dean was out for the day. Bulma's eyes narrowed and she cursed under her breath. Of course the moment she wanted to go and her anger was at its peak, the Dean was gone. She raised a hand and rubbed her fingers across her lips, looking around for anyone, no one in particular, just someone. Maybe someone could tell her when the Dean was expected back.

Bulma pursed her lips, "Great," she whispered to herself as she approached the closed door, which had not a single window. She reached out and gripped the door handle. She didn't even need to wiggle it a little to tell that on the opposite side it was locked. Bulma dropped her head back and her eyes closed.

"Seriously?" she asked herself, growling in frustration and kicked the door ever so slightly before turning.

She paused and her eyes widened slightly as she heard the door click open. Bulma glanced over her shoulder, noticing the slight crack in the door. Her eyes narrowed.

"Now, why in the heck did it do that?" She asked herself, noticing a light was on inside. Bulma poked her head in, taking notice of the chairs and sitting area. What was she, a shrink?

There was a small hallway that led to another door, which was slightly cracked. Bulma tilted her head to the side and approached the door slowly. She hoped she didn't get caught snooping, but who cares. All she had to say was the door was unlocked so she thought someone was there to speak to. They wouldn't question that, right?

Bulma licked her lips and set down her bag near a chair. She gripped the note book and approached the slightly open office door, or so she supposed it was an office. She swallowed hard. Someone was inside. Her brows knitted. She felt like a naughty child snooping. Bulma straightened her back and shook her head.

Come on, Bulma, grow up. Just waltz in there and tell the lady already.

She quickened her pace, but still kept quiet. She extended her hand and gripped the door handle, but she paused. What was that? Bulma blinked a few times, frowning slightly. Was that what she thought it was? The blue haired student listened. Yep, she heard it again. That was most definitely a moan. She licked her lips and looked through the cracked door.

Inside was the very same woman she saw at the bar with her... Bulma's lips parted and her eyes widened. The woman's blouse was split down to her belly button, showing off her black lacy bra and the swell of her large breasts. Her hands were gripping the edge of the desk, turning white from the pressure. That loose brown hair of hers cascaded over her shoulders and spilled across the desk. Her eyes were closed tightly and her pouty lips were lightly parted as moans escaped them. Her body was being thrust against her desk, hard. A pair of hands was roughly kneading her exposed rear end as their bodies collided together at a rough pace. It was dark in the office. Only a small lamp on a mini end table provided light.

Bulma felt her stomach clench and an odd warmth pool between her thighs. She felt dirty. She couldn't believe that she was standing their long enough to see what was happening. She knew what was happening right now before her very eyes. She covered her mouth and nearly screamed when she finally got a good look at the man gripping the Dean's shapely hips. That flame style hair, that beautifully chiseled jaw, and finally that glistening, muscled chest exposed to her wandering eyes through his unbuttoned dress shirt.

Her very own Professor was behind the woman, roughly taking her from behind. His teeth were clenched as he sped up his pace. He was rough, cruel almost with his movements. The only thing was she seemed to be enjoying it. It seemed that with each rough thrust of his well-formed hips, her screams grew louder. Bulma nearly fell back as her Professor grabbed the woman's mouth, roughly pulled her body back, and whispered in her ear causing her to quiet her cries.

Bulma gasped softly and rushed away, gripping her bag and carefully making her way toward the exit, hoping they didn't hear her. They didn't seem to even notice she was there, thank goodness.

She ran down the hallway, toward the main entrance of the hall. She was gasping for air. After she felt she had put enough distance between them, she plopped down in a chair and caught her breath. She needed a cigarette and quick.

She couldn't believe her eyes. She actually just saw her professor, Mr. Absolute-Prick, fucking the Dean of Phycology. What in the hell? The Dean was the women from the bar. Well, she didn't think he honestly had it in him. No, who was she kidding. She wondered how he would be in bed plenty of times. She scrunched up her face and shook her head.

"For god sakes!" Bulma nearly shouted.

How could she honestly face that woman now? How could she possibly confront her and tell her about Mr. Ouji. If she was screwing the guy on a regular basis she doubted the lady would do a thing. The most the Dean would do was most likely give him a tap on the hand and then… spread her legs. Bulma laugh out loud, shaking her head. She sucked in a breath, placing a hand to her chest. Her heart was beating.

_God, I hope they didn't see me…_

Bulma thought to herself. How was she going to act normally around this man?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That completes Chapter Three. I hope you all are enjoying the story so far. This is going to be a very complicated story. Both Characters are sort of complicated in their own way. Don't worry, this is a B/V. Don't completely freak…
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unmasked
> 
> Chapter Four
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing…
> 
> Warning: This is a mature fanfiction…no one under the age of 18.

ooOoo

…

..

.

Yesterday was off the charts weird. She was glad that she got a small break today. One of her classes was canceled and on top of it she didn't have to force herself through the double doors of her work. Her mother had texted her, telling her to stop by the flower shop after class, and that was what she was going to do. Usually her mom didn't bother her, but it had to be something, those texts were never sent without a reason.

Bulma walked around the corner, heading toward the strong floral scent escaping the opening and closing doors of her mother's flower shop. She pulled her shoulder bag close to her neck, bumping it up upon her rear and entered as a men exited. She looked around, finding her mother's smiling face from behind the counter. Bulma couldn't help but grin.

Her mother glanced up and smiled from ear to ear. She offered the customer their receipt and walked around the corner, wiping her hands off on her company apron.

"There is my beautiful daughter," Her mother opened her arms wide and embraced her, which Bulma accepted gratefully.

"You are busy, I should have come a different time, or maybe even after you closed the shop," Bulma's blue eyes skimmed toward the register where a few of her extra help wandered from the back to assist her mother.

She had once thought it would be nice to have a family owned business where she could work and get paid, but the more she matured she realized she wouldn't feel right getting paid. She wanted to make her own money. Plus she would never allow Lorelei to pay her as a regular employee anyway. She was family, family was expected to help. Lorelei was nice enough to pay for her dorm room as well as her schooling. She didn't need to be paid anything after all that her mother had done for her. She truly was grateful.

"No, I am all caught up. I have a wedding this weekend and a funeral on Sunday. For the first time your mother is way ahead of herself." Her mother said, chuckling and tucking a few strands behind her ear.

"Oh that is great. I am glad you aren't stressing." Bulma looked around, leaning against the counter and watching as the workers and possible customers made their way around the shop.

"How is your day? You look stressed. Is everything going alright at school?" Her mother's brows knitted slightly as she began to situate the large leaves surrounding a flowered creation of hers.

"I am fine, it is just…" Bulma paused and bit her lower lip, turning and smiling. She began to shake her head, "It really is nothing,"

Lorelei turned and narrowed her eyes, "B, I know you better than that. Tell me what is going on. Do you need some cash? Clothing? Food?" Her mother asked walked toward her and speaking in a hushed tone so no one could hear them.

Bulma brushed some hair behind her ear, "No, just a certain professor of mine. He has me doing a lot for the class. I started on this re-write, but I have to finish it. No big deal or anything. I really am fine. I have enough money as well, so please don't try to slip me any." She warned, flashing an amused look with those blue eyes.

Her mother's lips puckered slightly, scolding her daughter with her eyes. She never liked it when Bulma refused her. Lorelei would do anything for her daughter that much was clear. Bulma knew it thrilled her to help, but she just couldn't let her do anymore. As her Lorelei turned around, growing quiet and withdrawn, Bulma sighed softly feeling terrible that it was a constant war when it came to cash and help.

"Fine, but how about we do lunch then, my treat?" Lorelei's mood changed quickly. She had been scheming. Her mother winked playfully at her daughter and rounded the counter.

"Fine, lunch sounds good. When did you want to go out?" Bulma asked, blinking a few times and turning to observe a few more of her mother's customers. She waved casually since many of them were regulars and knew her and her mother quite well.

"I was thinking a late lunch tomorrow?" Her mother asked, brushing few of her locks of hair behind her ear and waving a customer over to ring them up.

"Yeah, that is fine. I will try and get things done tonight then. I have to finish this paper, like I said, but I will meet you at our usual at three o'clock tomorrow." Bulma smiled brightly, pulling her bag up once again and waving good-bye.

It had been so long since she had last been out with her mother. She missed the woman's goodness. She was kind hearted and did almost everything right. The first time she saw her, she knew she would be a perfect fit. She never rushed her, and always made her feel comfortable. Bulma smiled and chuckled aloud remembering all the sweet favors she would do, just to win her over the first few weeks.

Bulma sat down upon the bench near the bus stop, watching the cars speed by. The bus was coming down the long stretch. It was stopped, letting college students pile upon it before it closed its doors and loudly plugging forward toward her stop. She closed her eyes and felt for the zipper of her bag, sliding a hand into her pouch to grip her pack of cigarettes. What she would give for a cigarette at this particular moment. The bus ride wasn't too terribly long. She would be back at her dorm in about fifteen minutes.

A loud honk made her jump and her blue eyes flip open. A look of pure annoyance slid across her previously calm features as she stared upon this particular person with nothing but loathing, and all he did was grin back.

"Hey Brandi, need a ride?" Yamcha leaned in against the passenger seat, getting a good look at her.

Why did it seem that every time she was having a quiet moment this idiot showed up? He worked with her; she had a class with him. She was pretty sure he wanted to do more than just hold hands by the look in his eyes whenever they were alone. What was she going to do? She figured yelling would suffice, but then she figured he would only retaliate someway so that he didn't look like a creepy stalker man, and then she would become even more annoyed. He would most likely follow her even if she decided to take the bus, fuck it!

She shifted uncomfortably upon the bench and raised a brow. She gripped the pack of cigarettes. Without one smart ass comment she stood up just as the bus approached. Bulma slammed her book bag through the open window, hitting Yamcha in the chest as she opened the door and slipped in. She carefully took the bag and grinned.

"Sure," was all she said, clicking her seatbelt into place.

Yamcha rubbed the center of his chest, grinning ever so slightly with a cocked eyebrow, "That was easy. I was almost one hundred percent positive that I would have had some sort of fight with you." He gripped his gear shifter, and dove off down the road.

"Well, I figured that I would give in or I would be in an argument with you the exact amount of time, or more that it took me to get home on the bus. Also, you most likely would have followed me home knowing your creeper status. That is why I decided to allow you to drive me back to my dorm. Plus I really need a cigarette." Bulma said softly, pulling a small cylinder free and placing it between her lips.

"Were you buying flowers for someone?" Yamcha asked, flipping on his blinker and gripping his steering wheel.

"Um, no, not…um," Bulma sucked in a large drag and slowly let it out, trying to figure out whether she should answer him or not, the noisy son of a bitch, "It is my mother's flower shop." Bulma's blue eyes flipped to the side, a soft smile formed on her lips.

"You get along with your mom?" Yamcha asked, quite interested.

"Oh yeah, she is amazing. She tries so hard to make me happy. If you wanted a prime example of 'mom of the year' that would be Lorelei." Bulma chuckled.

"Ah, well I wish I could say the same. My mother died when I was young. It is just me and my father now. We aren't close, which is a pity." Yamcha looked down a moment, darkness floated across his features as he spoke of the man.

Bulma tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear as she sat up straighter, "You need a smoke?" she asked softly, knowing full well how much the death of a family member weighed on a person's soul.

Yamcha's eyes brightened slightly. He seemed to push away the memories and in that moment he chuckled, smirking broadly. He was up to something.

"Not necessarily that type of smoke." Yamcha pulled out a small pipe from his center council and packed a very small piece Marijuana from a small little plastic pouch as he directed his car down the straight away with his knee.

Bulma's lips parted slightly as she watched him light the tip of the small pipe and took in a puff, holding it and slowly letting the smoke escape. The smell of Marijuana filled her nostrils. The brown haired college student chuckled softly and looked around. They were in broad daylight. Why the hell was he doing this in broad daylight? She didn't feel like being arrested today, nope not at all. What about her career?

Oh god, hush Bulma…think, think… Alright, I will open the door slightly and was it tuck and roll? Stop, drop, and…for god sakes!

"What are you doing?" Bulma asked, slipping down in her seat.

"Don't tell me you have never smoked before?" He asked her, flipping the pipe toward her, offering her a puff. She glanced at the smoking end, her eyes becoming wider. She honestly didn't know why she felt so uncomfortable, she had done worse things. It was just a little marijuana.

"Don't laugh, but no. I smoke cigarettes, but not the green." Bulma pursed her lips and shook her head, becoming agitated that she was practically forced to tell him she was inexperienced in something. It made her uncomfortable. He took another puff and then offered it once again to her.

Bulma swallowed hard and took the pipe, looking around as if there was some invisible camera taking note of each bad move she decided to take this very day. She placed her lips upon the pipe and took in a small puff, coughing the moment the smoke touched her lungs. It was strong and thick. She didn't like the burning feeling in her throat and lungs, but it quickly faded as she coughed it out. She placed a hand over her mouth and began to lean forward. Yamcha leaned back in his seat and began to laugh at her. He was completely amused by this.

"Why are you laughing?" Bulma coughed one last time before passing it back, which he began to pack once again.

"I am so glad I was the first person to introduce you to the world of pot smoking. A little hard to believe, but I am glad none the less." Yamcha grinned stupidly as his lidded eyes shifted to the pipe. He lit the end once again and took another hit.

Bulma rolled her eyes, starting to feel a bit odd after the large puff. How long did it take, how many puffs would she need in order to feel this 'high' that everyone experienced when smoking? She honestly never contemplated it before. That was until this obnoxious idiot came along and he decided to play a game of puff-puff-pass. Bulma guessed he wasn't so bad after all, though he wouldn't hear her say it aloud.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. Just try and relax, clear your mind." Yamcha took another puff, handing her the pipe, which she took willingly and without questions. He pulled into her dorm's parking lot and grinned over at her as she indulged in the drug. It was a start of a good night.

…

..

.

.

..

…

Yamcha kicked the door closed as he held two pizzas in his arms along with cheesy bread, a two liter of Pepsi, and hot wings. Bulma was lying on the floor of her door room, looking up at the ceiling. She began to chuckle softly.

"I was just thinking about how we met, I was such a bitch. Why would you want to have anything to do with a girl like me? You must have been really desperate. Did you have blue balls, Yamcha?" Bulma began to laugh hysterically as she cupped her arms around her mid-section, watching him come in with the food. She hopped up and landed upon her bed.

"Yeah, I suppose you were a bitch, but that is why I liked you." Yamcha shrugged, laying down the food and taking a piece of the cheese pizza. He nearly inhaled the first piece, so did the brunette.

"Well, that just means you are a bitch yourself, but not in a good way." Bulma shook her head, taking a wing from the box and began to eat it. Yamcha raised a brow, interested in her ritualistic way of pealing the boneless wing apart.

"You know what sounds good?" Bulma looked up, grinning childlike. It was something Yamcha had never seen before, especially with this uptight woman.

"What?" Yamcha said with a full mouth.

"A life supply of M&M's. If I had that, I think I would be so happy." Bulma grinned, taking another bite of her wing.

"Right," Yamcha began to laugh, shaking his head, "You know I think I prefer you high."

Bulma glared at him and took a small bite of a piece of pizza she lifted to her mouth.

"I feel bad that I haven't been coming to Ouji's class lately." Yamcha said, taking a drink and laying back upon Bulma's bed, watching her inhale a whole half of a pizza in minutes.

"Don't be, our little professor has been super busy anyway," Bulma licked her lips and lay back upon the bed, placing a finger over her lips, signaling it was a secret.

"Busy, with what? Trying to drive his students insane?" Yamcha raised a brow and then slowly closed his eyes.

"No, he is fucking the dean." Bulma didn't at all beat around the bush. After that she began to giggle wildly, "I saw them."

Yamcha's eyes snapped open and he slowly rose from the bed, looking down at her giggling form, "You saw them? Now who is the 'creeper'?" He said dramatically.

"Fuck you, Yamcha, it wasn't like that. It isn't like I get off from sitting outside someone's window. Let me explain myself." Bulma snapped an angry glare in his direction.

"Alright, creeper, explain to me what happened." Yamcha grinned, scooting closer to her lounging body.

"Well, I was going to speak to the dean about our Professor's constant nagging and his unfair grading, but most of all I wanted to explain to her that he was a scum bag that gets a kick out of pissing me off." Bulma sucked in a breath, "I walking into her office and didn't get far after…well you know."

"How did you know it was him?" Yamcha chuckled softly, leaning in and brushing some of her hair from her eyes. Bulma swallowed hard, noticing the closeness.

"Well, the door was cracked." She shrugged, looking away and scooting slowly in the opposite direction, "I happened to see through that…and there he was." She shrugged, taking in a slow breath as he inched closer to her.

Yamcha traced a thumb along her jaw line, trapping her beneath him as he forced her to look him in the eye. His lips parted as he watched her mouth with his chocolate brown stare. He began to smile ever so softly. Bulma couldn't speak. She couldn't even think straight. That moment she reached up to push him away and his hand gripped her wrist as he leaned in closer.

"You have the more beautiful eyes," He breathed, leaning in nearly brushing his lips against hers.

He is not going to…oh yes he is…

Her mind was running wild. Bulma wished she could sink through the mattress, far away from his touch, "Yamcha…" She said softly, trying to free her chin from his grasp.

The door slammed open and her blonde roommate peaked in holding a bottle of jack in one hand and a two liter of coke in the other. Her eyes were glossy. She had been drinking. There was a young man with her, gripping her around the waist and kissing at her neck. He pulled away and rubbed the back of his neck noticing the room was already occupied.

"Holy shit," Steph laughed aloud, nearly dropping her bottles, "This is too good. I am glad you are taking my advice; though I was hoping it was the other guy I was telling you to bone…who was it again? Your Prof…"

"Shut the hell up, Stephanie!" Bulma nearly shouted shoved Yamcha up and straightening her brown hair.

"What the hell is that," She began to sniff around, pausing in front of her friend, "It smells like…" Stephanie gripped her guys hand and pulled him into the room and paused, shifting her gaze toward her friend, "Is that reefer?"

Bulma began so smile ridiculously, tapping her foot and reaching for her glass of Pepsi.

"So what, I decided to try smoking. It isn't bad."

Stephanie grinned playfully, popping her hip and looking her friend up and down, "Yep, and then you were going to have kinky stoner sex. I like your style, B." She turned to face her boy toy, "Oh, this is Don. Don, this is Brandi and…?" She raised a blonde brow, waving her hand toward the quiet guy as he ran his own hands through his thick, dark locks.

Yamcha looked up and nodded to the Don character, "Yamcha," he said casually.

"You guys should come to a party with us. It is just down the block. I needed to come back to change my shoes, but I am even more excited that you both are here. Come on; come out with us, Brandi." Steph begged, bouncing in place, nearly falling over in the process.

Bulma was coming down from her high, she glanced over at her closed laptop and cursed softly, "I really would like to go out, but I have a paper that I need done in a couple days." She licked her lips and rubbed her sore eyes. What time was it anyway?

Bulma glanced toward the clock, taking note that it was nearly 10:30PM.

"Brandi, you can work on it tomorrow. You are a smart girl. Just come out with us. I am sure Yamcha would be game, right Yamcha?" She sat beside him, grinning playfully.

Yamcha looked her over and chuckled, "I think it would be fun, come on. You can get serious tomorrow." Her fellow student stood up and gripped her hand, pulling her close. Bulma shoved him back and shook her head.

"Fine, we will go out, but I am not getting slammed." She warned Stephanie, who seemed to be ignoring everything she was saying. The blonde was just happy she said yes.

"Oh you will have fun! Come on, Mr. Yamcha, show my friend here a good time." Stephanie grabbed her drunken boy toy and then exited after she changed her shoes.

The all traveled to the small house party down the block. Apparently it wasn't as small as Bulma would have liked. The music could be heard from the street and people were piling in and out of the two-story home. Stephanie greeted about ten people upon arrival. Bulma wasn't at all surprised. Her friend had plenty of other hangout spots and was a social butterfly. They were immediately sucked into a game of beer pong. There were three tables going on in the entire house, which was amazing considering how popular the game was usually at these functions. It created fewer problems within the house. The game could be very competitive when drunken fools were involved.

One game quickly became two, and then three. She had to sit down after a certain amount of shots that were being passed in-between games. Drinks were coming her way because her friend wouldn't let the party aspect go. Of course she didn't take into consideration that Bulma needed to be up to begin re-writing that bitch of a paper.

She tried roaming the house, but after she decided to cut herself off, the sleepiness grabbed ahold of her and was shaking her mercilessly. She wasn't sure where Yamcha had gone off to. The last time she saw him he was heading to the back with a freshly packed pipe. She honestly didn't realize how much of a pot head Yamcha was. It didn't bother her any. She just guessed he was becoming extremely comfortable in his ways around her.

Bulma plopped herself on the chair facing one of the beer pong tables. Steph was just finishing up her game with that Don guy.

"Brandi, you have to keep drinking sweetie." Stephanie whispered in her friend's ear, "Either that or keep active. You can't be falling asleep, it is too early. How are you going to get any?" She laughed softly, placing her forehead against her friends.

Bulma's blue orbs opened slowly as she grinned, "I am not sleeping with him, Steph. He isn't even a friend." She pursed her lips, feeling the rim of Stephanie's cup brush her lips.

"Oh yeah, that is why he was all over you." She whispered playfully, pulling the drink away.

"What you walked in on wasn't what it seemed." The Brunette grinned, pushing her blonde friend off.

"Well, you need something. Use him and throw him away. It is what I would do."

Bulma put up a thumb and crinkled her nose, "That sounds like great advice. Thanks Steph," She patted her blonde friend upon the shoulder. "I think I want to sleep."

"Don't go to sleep yet," Stephanie whined, trying desperately to offer her another shot.

Bulma cuddled up upon the chair and closed her eyes, not being able to shake her alcohol induced slumber.

…

..

.

Bulma opened her eyes early morning. The soft rays of light shone in through the slightly parted drapes. She felt the soft skin of her flesh caressing against the sheets. Pulling the comforter over her nude form she signed softly. Bulma inhaled and stretched under the sheets, but paused. Her eyes snapped open and in and instant she nearly darted from the bed. She knelt in the middle of her small bed looking down at her very naked form. The only thing on were her panties. She glanced to the floor and saw Yamcha snoozing away. Stephanie was lying in her own bed and passed out, most likely not to wake until noon.

Bulma reached out a toe and poked the sleeping man. She called his name softly, poking a little harder. Finally she barked out his name, thrusting her foot hard into his rib cage. Yamcha cried out loudly, gripping his side and rolling to his back.

"Yamcha, what the hell happened?" She asked, pulling the sheet to her bare breasts.

Yamcha cracked an eye, wincing in pain still, "What do you mean?"

"Why are my clothes off, you fucking idiot." She growled lowly in his throat and pressed her naked back to the cool wall.

"Well, I took them off, don't you remember?" He looked around, blinking a few times.

"You…"

"Oh shit, yeah you were super shit faced. You kept insisting that I join you, but I didn't want the next morning to end up like…well, how it is now. I guess this situation was a lose-lose."

"Shut up," She nearly screamed, "So…" Bulma paused a moment, fumbling to find her words, "We didn't…?"

"No, we didn't." He glanced up at her, grinning softly and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Thank god, I would have had to castrate you." She whispered softly, closing her tired eyes. She massaged them softly before re-opening them and glancing up toward the ceiling.

"Yeah, I figured as much. I was honestly taken back that you even thought about sleeping with me last night." Yamcha then looked puzzled, "But you did keep calling me Professor Asshole, which I was completely confused." He glanced up at her, raising a brow.

"That meant nothing. I was drunk. I don't even remember getting back to my dorm. Hand me that shirt." She wiggled her index finger in the direction of an oversized night shirt.

Yamcha grabbed it quickly, tossing it in the brunette's direction. He sat up, leaning against the bed. He signed and watched the sleeping blonde. He shook his head remembering she was the worst last night. It took him four different attempts to round her up. The second to the last try he was seriously considering tying her up and dragging her back.

"I am shocked she hasn't puked." Yamcha chuckled.

"Why did you take off my clothes, creeper?" Bulma pursed her lips after dressing herself under the sheets.

"You puked all over yourself. I didn't want you sleeping in that all night. If you don't believe me, in your closet in a plastic bag are the dirty clothes. It smells horrible, but my main concern was getting us into bed." He ran a hand through his thick hair.

Bulma's lip parted as she glanced suspiciously toward the closet in which her puke coated clothing was most likely bagged.

"So, who drove?" Bulma asked.

Yamcha shrugged, "That Dan guy…"

"Don?" Stephanie's head shot up, as she peaked through the monstrosity in which was her hair.

Bulma raised a brow and tilted her head to the side, "He isn't here, Steph."

"Please tell me I am in my bed…" The blonde whispered softly, wiping the back of her hand across her dry lips.

"You are in your own bed." Bulma said loudly, lying back against her pillow.

"Thank god," the blonde said, hugging her pillow, "Brandi?"

"Yeah?" Bulma asked, glancing to the side.

"Did I get lucky last night?"

Bulma's eyes narrowed, glanced down at Yamcha who was shaking his head, "I don't think so, Steph." The Brunette laughed after hearing a soft grumble.

ooOoo

Bulma grabbed some food, a coffee and collected her laptop. She was running on fumes. The ache in her head was not helping her to finish this paper, but she got through it. After a good amount of time spent on this re-write, she was not at all worried about the outcome. In all honesty she was completely irritated and completely over this class, period. She didn't know what else to do. All she really could do was plug along, and stay silent.

That was what she was going to do. She would not say another thing. She would not respond to his rude commentary and she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how mad she truly was.

Bulma clicked rapidly, going through the print options. Her eyes skimmed the illuminated computer screen in the lab as she searched and then pressed print. The white sheets quickly immerged from the printer. She gripped the warm sheets between her fingers, cradling it to her chest. The brunette quickly slung her back pack over her shoulder and headed to her destination, Professor Asshole's office to be exact.

She had spent a few more hours revising and fixing her 'sorry excuse for a paper' when finally she decided it would have to do. It damn well better do, considering she skipped two classes to catch up. Not to mention there was so much she had for other classes that this should not be her main propriety. Of course she was determined to prove him wrong. In order to get all her other class work done she and to wrap it up and move on. If he didn't like it still, she guessed he would have to suck it up and pipe down with the bad ass professor persona, which she knew would be extremely hard in his case.

As she approached her professor's office door she noticed it was closed. Her stomach oddly sunk and her felt a wave of anxiety wash over her. She didn't want a repeat. Bulma honestly didn't think she could handle another show, considering the last time she felt like she was two seconds from literally collapsing from pure shock. Clearing her throat, Bulma extended her hesitant hand and knocked loudly on the door, gaining the attention. In her mind it would withhold any physical activity going on inside, saving her from what might be next.

She could hear papers wrestling, a chair move and then an annoyed voice from behind the door, "Come in,"

The young woman leaned in and gripped the door handle, popping the door open slightly with her hip. She swallowed hard and kept her features straight as a board as she entered the confines of his cramped office. She raised a brow and blinked, looking around as if confused. Odd, for someone who was giving it to the Dean she figured he would be given a little more space for his services.

"Miss. Williams, what brings you to my office?" His onyx eyes regarding her quickly before turning his attention back to the papers he was grading.

"Well, I didn't want to come here, but considering I was forced to be here because of my revised paper, I guess I really had no choice in the matter," Bulma tapped a finger upon her pursed lips, giving her paper a toss upon his desk. She mentally kicked herself. No more back talking, Bulma.

Mr. Ouji ceased his movements as the paper obstructed his vision. He laid his pen down and gripped the paper, looking slightly confused. Bulma raised a brow and crossed her arms over her chest. Oh boy, here it comes. The brunette pursed her lips tighter, popping her hip.

"Interesting, very good Miss. Williams. I forgot to e-mail you the other day. You see I was busy with a meeting." Bulma's eyes widened slightly, forcing herself not to roll them, knowing damn well where he was. The dark haired man chuckled darkly, leaning back in his seat and draping his arm over the back of his computer chair as he looked upon the flustered face of his student, "But I revisited your paper, you deserved a higher grade. You didn't even need to complete this one. I must have been having one of those days." He placed it upon the stack and grinned, "I am glad you can follow directions, Miss. Williams."

That very instant her mouth dropped open, "Are you…serious?" Bulma dropped her bag on the floor and ran her hands over her loose locks, blinking rapidly, "I spent two hours revising when I could have been working on other…I skipped classes…" She dropped her arms at her side and shifted her body toward her teacher, "You did that purposely." The brunette nodded.

"I did no such thing," He narrowed his liquid black eyes, tilting his head back and crossing his arms over his wide chest.

"That is a load of bullshit, you most certainly did." Bulma shouted back at him, point a finger. So much for the self-talk; all of that nonsense was down the drain. He had just royally pissed her off.

"Miss. Williams, I will not stand for this in my office…"

"Oh quit this, 'Miss. Williams' shit, I am getting sick of this pathetic class. I would go to the dean," She paused, gritting her teeth and sucking in a breath. Her anger was getting the better of her, and for a very good reason, "but I know what you do with that woman. It would be silly to even bring it up to her. She would defend you till the end, right?"

Surprisingly her professor's eyes brightened with interest, yet showing no emotion. Not even a hint of emotion.

"Tell me, Mr. Dude, Mr. O, 'hey you' even," She sucked in a shaky breath.

"Miss. Williams," His eyes narrowed, "I will ask you one time…"

"Do you even have a degree?" Bulma placed her hands on her hips, tilting her head to the side, biting her lower lip before continuing.

"Do not…"

"Or do you get by..by…" She continued to ramble.

"Disrespect me in…"

"By fucking all the higher ups?" Bulma paused just as he calmly got out the last bit.

"My office…" Vegeta's nostril's flared as he slowly turned his chair to face her.

"What don't tell me I was spot on?" She began to chuckle, shaking her head, completely shocked that she went as far as she had already. Honestly, she was proud she was speaking her mind, but what happened to the ignoring speech? Though, Professor Asshole most likely had yet to hear it from a student, since she was willing to bet that no one had the balls.

"You need to be punished, Miss. Williams." Vegeta's gruff voice lowered an octave as he watched her with those blazing eyes.

"Don't tell me you are seriously going to punish me?" Bulma began to laugh, "What, are you going to spank me?" she waved her fingers around, continuing with this silly game. She laughed out loud once again, placing her hand on her flat belly.

Vegeta's eyebrow quirked slightly as he stood up quickly, shooting out a hand and gripping her wrist. Bulma gasped loudly, as her eyes widened in shock. It happened quicker then she could respond. Her Professor gripped her shoulder, bending her at the waist and pressing her warm cheek to the cool surface of his desk. He was right over her. His lips were inches from her cheek. She could feel his hot stare on her face and neck as he reached around and gripped the button of her jeans. Bulma whimpered softly, looking at the corner of her eye as he held her in place. Vegeta leaned to his right and just then Bulma could hear the door quickly lock.

"What are you…?"

"I'm going to spank you, of course," He whispered lowly, intensely, "Wench,"

Bulma felt a tingle in her loins as her knees buckled. He held her up as he pulled her thong and jeans away from her rounded rear end. He moved away from her rear, allowing her to feel the cool air brush over it. Within seconds his large hand collided hard upon her flesh. The sound of skin colliding with skin was contained in the small office. Of course those outside would most likely hear it if they got too close and that frightened her. She cried out, feeling tears prickling behind her eyes. Vegeta's hand came up the middle of her back as he gripped the back of her neck.

"Hush now, little girl, you don't want people to know what is going on in here." He smirked, laying two more hard strikes upon each one of her cheeks.

"Please stop…" She whimpered feeling disgusted that she actually was enjoying the feel of his hand on her rear. His hand stroked over her skin as he leaned back in and smirked once again.

"You don't want me to stop," He whispered to her, licking his lips, "Do you?"

"Yes, I do, please," Bulma blinked back her tears, "I'm so sorry," she choked back.

"Did you learn your lesson?" Vegeta asked, pulling her up and turning her around, none too lightly, "Hn?"

"Yes," She said softly, her lips parted as her blue gaze went to his lips as he leaned in, her lips parting more with anticipation. She wanted him to touch her more, no it couldn't be. Could it? She was completely turned on by this right now. She couldn't believe it. Her breasts were peaking and she was willing to bet she was soaked. Bulma closed her eyes before reopening them to meet his intense gaze.

Vegeta's thick brows narrowed slightly as he watched her mouth, "What is it, Miss Williams? You didn't think I was going to kiss you?" His head tilted slightly, looking rather amused with her reaction.

"Yes," She breathed, her eyes hooded.

You just admitted that you liked it…he knows you wanted more…

She mentally cringed. Vegeta grinned, showing those straight pearly white teeth as he gripped her shoulder and moved her toward the door, "Don't forget your bag, Miss Williams. If your paper does not score as high as the older, I will give you the highest grade." He sat back down in his chair, no longer looking at her as she straightened her hair and blinked, opening the door as she slung her bag over her shoulder and exited wordlessly.

When she arrived back at her dorm, Bulma went straight for the body length mirror located on the back of her dorm room door. She stared at herself. She was in completely shock with herself. Her hands traveled the length of her body, eyes following. The brunette took in a deep breath and turned slowly, prying the jeans and panties away from the tender flesh. The asshole marked her. She could see the red swollen flesh raised and in the shape of his hand. There were multiple marks.

Her finger traced the outline of the hand, wincing as she brushed spots that hurt more than others. Bulma licked her lips and slowly walked to her bed, laying down and kicking off her jeans. Her hand traveled down between her legs, feeling the damp material. She was excited, excited for his touch. She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath as she dipped her fingers between her nether lips. She cried out, cried out the name of her Professor.

God, she needed to do something about this grown obsession. Fuck, she was calling it an obsession. She tilted her head to the side, glancing at the clock. She needed to take a cold shower, get dressed and meet her mother. God, she hoped Lorelei wasn't in a nosy mood today.

ooOoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ^-^ Thanks for reading!


	5. Phone Call One

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The Phone rang in his pocket. Vibrations traveled up the length of his dress pants. His hand slipped in. He pulled it free, pressing the answer button. Taking in a deep breath he listened.

"We have new information…"

The voice was stern, thrilled even. Yes, the man had found what he most wanted.

"Yes, I see there is good news. I am pleased." He man said, stroking his grey mustache.

"Yes, we have found her, boss."

He could practically feel the evil grin through the speaker of the phone.

"I have the means to bring her now, just say the word."

"No, you will not do anything. Keep doing what you do best and I will call you at the end of the week. No more questions."

"Yes, boss." The man responded his voice low knowing the excitement had yet to come.

The man with the phone clicked the end button, stuffing the phone back into his pants. He lifted the glass of scotch to his lips, taking a small drink as he observed the computer screen which had a visible picture of the now brunette Bulma Briefs.

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	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unmasked
> 
> Chapter 5
> 
> By: Mallie-3
> 
> Warning: Adult themes and Adult Language. No one under the age of 18.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own ANYTHING!

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No more blue roots for her.

Bulma rinsed the remains of the dye from her strands of hair. Her fingers laced in the wet tendrils, smoothing her finger pads over each clump, thoroughly withdrawing any source of the dye. She gripped a dry towel and wrapped it tightly around her head. She leaned over the skin and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

"Are you alright in there, sweetie?" A muffled voice came from behind the door.

"Yeah, I am fine, mom." Bulma called back, waiting to hear the pads of her feet fade in the kitchen's direction.

She pulled out her make-up bag, applied a small amount to semi-hide her scar and added a dab of mascara and she was done. Bulma pulled the damp towel from her head and tossed it in the hamper. She took a look at her own handy work and grinned. Too bad she wasn't into the whole cosmetology thing. Her fingers dragged through the locks, checking for even one strand of noticeable blue. None, that she could find, popped up through the dark brown.

Bulma made her way into the kitchen and smiled seeing her mother had brought home another one of her 'masterpiece' flower displays. Of course in her mother's eyes they were. Unfortunately to others they weren't so spectacular. They were usually done by new employees and her mother felt sorry for them, which led to her adopting them into her home until they wilted. She was an odd woman, but she wouldn't have her any other way.

"What is this one's name?" Bulma smiled, taking a seat upon the bar stool.

Lorelei glanced up from her batch of pancake mix and made the 'o' face. Her eyes flashed in amusement after she realized what she was referring to. Lorelei grinned and tapped an index finger upon her lips as she studied the hideous display.

"I was thinking about Gladys. Or how do you feel about Myrtle? Better yet, Herbert." She began to laugh hysterically.

"Herbert is, by far, the best name I think you have come up with." Bulma laughed and leaned in to the display, taking a whiff, "They smell good at least."

"I know your mother is an odd person." She pursed her lips, but grinned. The woman Bulma referred to as Mother put the first batch of pancakes on the griddle.

"It is alright. We belong together. I am not exactly normal." She shrugged and watched the mix begin to bubble just at the surface.

"Who told you that?" Lorelei bristled immediately.

"Oh, it is my own assessment." Bulma chuckled, "Don't worry, you don't need to hunt anyone down,"

Lorelei grinned over her should, "Darn," she winked playfully, "So, how is class?"

Bulma reached out and gripped one of the glasses of fresh orange juice and took a rather large swig after hearing the question. Bulma licked her lips and allowed her eyes to roam a moment before actually answering her.

"Oh, they are good. Same old, same old, you know." Bulma shrugged, leaning over and snagging a piece of toast with a thin layer of jelly upon the surface. She took a bite and averted her eyes.

Lorelei glanced in her daughter's direction and arching a brow, "So, everything is just peachy, huh? Your grades aren't hurting are they?" Her mother popped a piece of cantaloupe into her mouth, chewing ever so slowly as she eyed her intently.

Bulma's head dropped back, letting out a cry of defeat, "My god, don't give me that look. I dropped a class. That is it. Everything is good with the other classes though. 4.0 here I go." She shook her fist, grinning softly.

"B, it has only been a couple weeks. You haven't ever dropped a class. Was it that difficult?" Her mother placed her hands upon the countertop and looked upon her daughter, confusion and worry shown through her beautiful eyes.

"Mom, trust me it was just fine. There is just one particular aspect that I didn't like about the class. The professor was sort of an asshole, and I was pushed over the edge." Bulma tucked her hair behind her ear, swallowing hard and going for another bite before Lorelei asked any more touchy questions.

"An asshole, huh?" Her lips pursed, "Well, I would hate for you to be miserable. I am disappointed, but I understand." She nodded and then went back to work, "You will have to tell me all about it over lunch someday this week." She smiled brightly.

Bulma smiled widely and nodded like a fool, "Sure,"

No way in hell…

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"He what?!" Stephanie started to laugh hysterically and rolled over upon the bed, hugging her legs to her stomach, "Shut your face, really?" she peeked up at her just to be sure she wasn't lying.

"I am not lying. Why in hell would I make up something that like. You know how I am, Steph." Bulma placed her hands upon her hips and began to pace, "So, the next day I went straight to the admissions office and dropped. I got some money back, which is pretty nice."

Stephanie rolled over on her belly and watched her a moment, "So, how was it to be spanked?" She grinned, flashing her eyes seductively.

Bulma glared daggers directly at her friend who began to laugh once again, "I knew I shouldn't have told you. How did I not foresee this coming?" She threw her hands up in the air and shook her head, "Of course you would think it was hot. You most likely would have done more with him if you were in my place." Her blue eyes flashed down to meet Stephanie's

Her friend's eyes shifted around as she pondered the situation and shrugged, not even trying to deny that she most likely would have been on the desk, asking for more.

"See what I mean?" Bulma grumbled softly and began to pace once again.

Stephanie watched her without saying a word, "Dude, did you report him?"

Bulma paused a moment and looked around, biting her index finger, "No," She responded, "I didn't even think about doing that. I probably should though. Who knows how many other innocent girls' minds he tortured?" She made an irritated noise with her mouth and crossed her arms tighter over her chest, "Bastard," the brunette whispered under her breath.

"Did you at all… like it? I mean he is fucking hot, Brandi." Steph responded.

"I don't care what he looks like; the hotness factor doesn't matter when the guy is a complete douche bag, Steph." She nearly yelled down at her friend.

Stephanie rolled her eyes and flipped over so she was flat on her back, "Alright, alright, so Professor dreamy ass is out of the question. Since you are in no mood, nor are you adult enough to speak to me about this topic let's move on to bigger and better things. So this Yamcha guy…" The blonde dropped her head to the side to look upon an angered Bulma upside down.

"First off, I am adult enough to talk about it. You are the crazy one to think that a professor who violates students is hot and the only reason why you do is because you find him attractive. What if he was an old wrinkly man? As for Yamcha, what about him?" She rolled her blue eyes.

Stephanie was lost for words. Her mouth was slightly open and she just glared directly back upon her friend. She shook her head and blinked a few times, "No old men for me thanks. Um, you were out with him, remember? Don't tell me you don't remember. I was drunk as hell and I still remember." Steph began to laugh, "Did you fuck yet? Lord only knows all this pent up sexual tension given to you by Professor sexy ass has you about to explode." The blonde began to laugh once again.

Bulma sat down upon the desk chair and placed her elbow upon the desk top, "No, I haven't been with him. He is a nice guy, fun to be around, but I just cannot see myself being with him that way. You know when you go to kiss someone and you get this disgusted feeling of, good god this is nasty I cannot imagine you naked?" Bulma asked.

Stephanie sat at the edge of her small bed and nodded slowly, flashing Bulma a grin, "Of course,"

"That is how I feel. Yamcha isn't a bad looking guy. I just don't get that feeling with him. He seems too clinging. I know he likes me, my god the guy texts me every chance he gets. I don't know." Bulma shrugged.

"Brandi, I know I give you a hard time with guys. Take your time. You are a lot smarter than me in that particular category. I am proud of you. As for professor sexy ass, just move on from that. Wait until we are graduated and we look back on those 'what the fuck' moments and laugh our asses off." Stephanie chuckled and stood, wrapping a protective arm around her friend's neck.

"Agreed," Bulma shoved her off, but smiled gratefully up at her, "I better get ready for work."

Bulma took a quick shower and dressed in her acceptable gear for work. She headed to the bus stop; power smoked a few cigarettes and boarded the bus. She listened to her loud music, looking out the window every so often when reading her college text books became annoying. She felt content now. She wasn't good at handling stressful situations. And these past few weeks had defiantly been stressful. Of course there was a reason behind it. She placed a sticky note against the page after finishing it and placed it back in her bag as the bus began to slow down near her stop. She exited and walked directly up to the building.

Yamcha was taking orders and ringing people up. His sweet brown eyes lifted from the keys and he grinned handsomely at her as she rounded the corner to hang up her jacket and put on her small half apron.

She walked around him and he leaned back and whispered softly, "Late,"

"On time," She shot back.

"Yeah, yeah," Yamcha chuckled softly.

"Someone needs to mind their own business," Bulma pursed her lips and looked at the receipt, which had just been freshly printed and began to make the latte. The hot liquid warmed her hand as she cupped it and poured the warm contents within the Styrofoam.

Yamcha smiled and took another order, directing the customers down the line to where the drinks were picked up. He slowly turned and propped his body up against the counter, looking toward the office, watching for their manager. Bulma side stepped around Yamcha to collect a lid and a coffee sleeve. She called out the orders, wished the customers a good day and turned, completely ignoring Yamcha's presence.

"You haven't been returning my text messages." Yamcha said softly, looking her curvy form over with his dark eyes. He reached out to touch her arm, but she turned quickly, causing him to pull it away and rub the back of his head, looking like a pathetic idiot.

Bulma paused and wiped her hands off on a paper towel, "I know I have been pretty busy."

"Well, did you read it at least?" Yamcha asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Yes," She nodded, tucking a few strands of brown hair behind her ear. The freshly dyed locks were slipping from her ponytail with each turn of her head.

Yamcha pursed his lips, rocking back and forth on the tips of his toes as he pondered what he would say next. Bulma fortunately began talking as soon as he came to the conclusion that this particular conversation most likely would remain awkward.

"Yamcha, I like you as a friend. I am not ready for a committed relationship." Her blue eyes lifted to meet his dark eyes. He was bummed.

"You know, you should at least give it a chance. Brandi, I really like you. I think there is something between us. I feel it at least."

Bulma began to chuckle, "Please don't tell me you feel a 'spark'." She raised her fingers and quoted the stressed word.

"Why do you think everything is a joke?" Yamcha asked, frowning deeply. He was growing irritated with her attitude toward him.

"I don't want a relationship. What is it with some of you men? Can you not accept 'no' for an answer?" She reached up and pulled her ponytail free, running her fingers over the loose strands and re-tying it.

"I can accept it, but I just think you don't like to get close to anyone. You are afraid of something." Yamcha shrugged, "I think it will take some time, but I am sure you will grow to like me just as I like you."

Bulma glared at him, "You need to stop assuming things about me, Yamcha."

"I am not, Brandi." Yamcha began to raise his voice, "You didn't want anything to do with me until you realized I wasn't so bad. You always keep people at arm's length. I am assuming that is the reason for you having so little friends." He spoke truthfully, knowing she wouldn't take his sentence the right way. He kicked himself after it left his mouth.

"Fuck you, Yamcha." She narrowed her eyes.

The bell above the doorway rang, causing Yamcha to turn toward the counter. He couldn't save himself now, the words were already said and the damage done. He stood closer to the counter and offered the best 'customer service smile' he could conjure up and began to help the gentleman.

Bulma began to stock her work area, not looking back once at Yamcha as he greeted the customer. What an asshole he was. For him to assume she wanted anything other than to be friends was his first mistake, but then for him to assume shit about her? Really? Was this boy a complete idiot when it came to women? On top of it he practically called her a loner. She pursed her lips tightly and tossed the straws in the holder, glancing in Yamcha's direction. Her breath hitched in her throat noticing who he was ringing up.

The tall dark haired professor handed Yamcha a twenty and glanced over at her with those piercing, dark eyes. A glint of amusement sparkled within them. Bulma let out a short burst of air. She immediately shifted so her back was facing the register. She looked around; panicking on the inside as she began to walk straight for the back of the coffee shop, trying to hide herself with the walls. Bulma tripped over an old machine and nearly fell. It didn't help that the floor had been recently mopped either. Her hands clutched for the counter top. She scanned the counter space, looking for a rag and a bucket of clean, sanitized water to begin washing the surfaces, looking busy and trying not to draw attention to herself.

After a few minutes, Yamcha slipped into the back. His brows knitted softly as he looked around the corner to see she was actually cleaning something. He raised a brow and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Alright, what is this all about?" the young man asked, looking her over, "Did you really just hide?"

Bulma paused and turned around, looking over her handy work, "Hide? Screw you, Yamcha, I am cleaning. No one else does around here. Plus, I am not talking to you."

"I barely ever see you clean around here," Yamcha said, glancing over his shoulder, "And just so you know, you are being childish. But anyway, I don't know how to make this drink ordered. Do you mind? I know it is for jackass, but I don't want to create another problem in the classroom. The guy gets a chubby every time I say or do anything wrong because it means he can make an ass of me and I cannot say a word. Sorry to say, Brandi, but I still have to deal with him." he leaned up against the counter and glanced over his shoulder.

Yes I mind...

"Sure, why not. I'll take the blow if the coffee isn't of quality taste for those 'superior' taste buds of his." She held her chin high and exited from her sad excuse of a hiding spot. Slowly she approached the register to look at the drink. It was a simple make, and because it was she made a point to glare at Yamcha who stood just behind her, overseeing her actions.

Bulma flicked her hands at him and frowned, "This… is super easy." She whispered, glancing up once to look over the counter. Her ex-professor was standing near the stock counters, checking out a few coffee mugs with his hands deep in his pockets.

Bulma turned and began to make the easy drink and placed a cap upon the finished product. She grabbed a sleeve for the cup and slowly walked to the counter. She cleared her throat and talked mentally to herself.

Courage… there is no way in hell I am going to let this asshole get the better of me…

"Number 46," Bulma called out, sliding the coffee in the man's direction.

Vegeta slowly made his way from display and slipped his hands from his pockets. He walked directly toward her. She turned to make a getaway and just as she did he called her name. Bulma paused. She looked over her shoulder at the man. Her blue eyes filled with many different emotions. She couldn't pick one for this guy. Anger, hate, embarrassment, fury, more embarrassment, and even a small amount of…what? Lust?

Her blue eyes made direct contact with those dark pits of his. The professor reached out and gripped his hot mug and glanced back up at her.

"Brandi," He nodded.

"Mr. Dude," Bulma grinned softly, and placed her hands upon the counter. Her balls were getting bigger and bigger by the minute.

"Interesting that I should find you working…here," The professor glanced around, not at all impressed.

Bastard didn't realize she was still in school and a six digit income was not really available just yet. At least she was employed. What a jerk. As he glanced over his shoulder at the lounge area he nodded once and turned to face her once again. Bulma was not happy that he was lingering.

"I see that you aren't busy. I wish to discuss a few things with you, Brandi. That is, if you don't mind?" He raised a dark eyebrow and stuffed his free hand into his pocket, turning slightly and glancing at her over his shoulder.

"Can't you discuss it with me right here? I am at work." Bulma pursed her lips, placing her hands upon the counter top.

"Well, there is a few I wish to discuss… If you don't mind that I bring up past events in front of your co-worker, then yes, we may." He turned slowly once again and grinned.

Bulma was not at all amused. She turned from the counter, "I will be back." She spoke quickly to Yamcha who was completely lost with all of this. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it right away. Bulma rounded the corner and followed the professor to the table of his choosing.

"What do you want to talk about?" Bulma asked, slipping into the chair and folded her hands upon the table top, her blue eyes wide with anticipation.

"You dropped," He placed the coffee cup to his lips, "I also understand you weren't at all amused by the very idea you, yourself, brought on." Vegeta pulled the rim from his lips. His black eyes roamed her face a moment as a small slip of anger flashed across her fingers before she turned her own eyes away and continued to look upon a wall.

"You know I could have you fired for that," Bulma said in a calm tone.

"You won't have me fired." Vegeta replied almost instantly to her slight threat.

Her eyes flickered back to meet his intense stare. She went to stand up, but his thick, warm palm wrapped its way around her wrist, "I didn't mean for us to meet this way. I actually was going to send an e-mail to you, but I thought long and hard on it, considering you most likely would have deleted it upon receiving it. I was going to call with this information, but then you were here."

"True," Bulma nodded, ripping her hand from his grasp and plopping back down upon the chair, "What do you want with me, Mr. O?" the brunette crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head to the side. Hopefully no spanking or any other perverted action while Yamcha's curious eyes beat the back of her skull.

"Like I was trying to say, this meeting was completely coincidental." He opened his palms and raised a brow before continuing, "When do you get off?"

"I get…you know what, no, I am not telling you that information. Why do you need to know?" Bulma leaned across the table and glared in his direction, pursing her pink lips.

"Fine, then we will speak about our little disagreement that happened in my office for all to hear. I am sure that fool will enjoy this chat immensely." Vegeta flicked his eyes in Yamcha's direction, which he stood closer now, cleaning the same countertop for the fifteenth time now.

"Stop threatening that, you know ultimately that will hurt you. Yamcha is in your class. That will be two people against you." She whispered harshly.

"Well, what I think is this Yamcha fellow has a crush on you, hence the reason why he is babysitting you. I think he would be jealous, what do you think?" Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest and began to glance in Yamcha's direction. Yamcha stood to full height and slowly walked away, trying to be inconspicuous.

"How long?" Bulma asked him.

"I am not sure, however long it takes to talk you back into my class." Vegeta shrugged, "I guess it all depends on you, Brandi."

"I get off in four hours," Bulma tucked a few locks of loose hair behind her eye and looked down at the table top.

"I will meet you near the bus stop. If you want I can also take you to you dorms, do not worry." He didn't meet her eyes, but if he had he would be able to tell that she was completely flabbergasted. There was no way.

ooOoo

"Why are you even agreeing to this?" Yamcha threw his hands up in the air, "You know how this guy operates. He loves to torture his students. I honestly think it will be the same old same old if you come back." The young man standing before her leaned in and tapped her shoulder.

Bulma turned to face him, "Yamcha, you don't have to tell me what I should do. I already know what I am going to do. It isn't any of your concern." Of course if Yamcha did know what had actually happened between them in that little office of Mr. Ouji's, he might be the first one to open that damned mouth of his and go after the professor or something crazy. Yamcha was one nosy bastard.

"Alright, well if don't answer in an hour I am going to hunt that bastard down," Yamcha placed his hands upon his hips and pursed his lips, looking more serious than she had ever seen him.

"Alright, big boy," Bulma began to chuckle softly as she began to count down her drawer.

"Can't you talk to him when it is light out?" Yamcha leaned in closer to whisper to her.

Bulma held up a finger to shut him up as she began to count the change aloud.

"Brandi, seriously…" He held up his hands and watched the money drop into their slots.

Bulma began to count louder, drowning out the sound of his voice. She closed her eyes and kept her finger up.

Yamcha's head dropped back and he instantly left the small office, finishing up the last bit of closing. Bulma glanced over to see where he had went, but resumed counting, glad that she received a small amount of silence now that he was gone.

She dropped the cash and closed up the office, being sure all lights and appliances were out before she headed to the front door. Yamcha waited for her patiently. A light jacket was crumpled up tightly in his arms as he watched her approach. She shook her head and pulled out her keys.

"You are really making a big deal about this." Bulma whispered as she allowed Yamcha to leave, closing and locking the door behind him.

"It doesn't matter anymore. Just let me know if you need anything." He said over his shoulder as he began to walk to his vehicle. Bulma paid him no mind and began trekking to the bus stop where this professor said he would be at. She couldn't believe she agreed to speak to this guy after work, of all times and places. She should just take another bus and forget he even asked to speak with her. Of course, knowing him, he would most likely show up again. He knew where she worked. Then again, he couldn't force her to do anything. She paused and looked directly at the bus stop just outside. Head lights were shimmering brightly down the street. She had a few seconds to think and within a moment or two she paused, turned and ran toward Yamcha's car. She began to bang on his window.

"Let me in," She said sternly.

Yamcha rolled down his window and peaked up at her, "Figure it was a stupid idea, miss cautious?" He shook his head, brushing his dark brown locks from his eyes.

"Just unlock it and take me home." She whispered, glancing over her shoulder to see Mr. Ouji's car pull up in the parking lot.

Without a moment's thought she slammed the door and ducked down low in the seat and stared up at Yamcha, "He is here, go, go," She spoke harshly, peaking up once to see him pull into a parking spot.

Bulma let out a soft exhale of breath when they finally pulled out of the parking lot. Yamcha was quiet for a while, but it didn't take him long to recognize the awkwardness and he began gabbing.

"I am glad you came to your senses. That guy gives me the creeps." He said, glancing over the back seat.

"I wonder how long it will take him to get the hint?" Bulma glanced up at Yamcha.

"I am sure he got it." Yamcha chuckled, "He definitely saw you."

"Fuck," She cursed, covering her face.

.

..

…

…

..

.

Bulma gripped her book bag as she walked through the Phycology hallways. Students were scarce at 8:30AM. Many of them wanted to sleep in and chose to pick classes later in the day. She, on the other hand, decided against that only because she liked to enjoy her day thoroughly. Unfortunately today was not a day that she wanted to be caught roaming the halls. She hoped and prayed that for some odd reason people decided to show up two or three hours early to study. Bulma rolled her eyes. Of course not, she was the only student besides a few others who was walking down the hallway heading for a class. She was almost positive that Mr. Ouji was here at this time. He liked early classes as well.

Just as she was making her way down the long hallway, which ended with her class being straight on, Vegeta rounded the corner. In his hand was a work book. He was flipping through the pages quickly. Bulma inhaled sharply, looking over her shoulder. Maybe if she switched directions…now…

The brunette turned on the balls of her feet and began to walk even quicker in the opposite direction. Fuck, now he would be getting a look at her butt. Why was she thinking about him looking at her butt? Oh my goodness, she could hear his footsteps getting closer and closer to her. Why did the man walk so damn fast? Was this a race? Was he trying to catch up to her? Whatever she did, she couldn't scream. Her hand was pulled tightly to her mouth.

Bulma closed her eyes and tightened her one hand at her side. She kept walking and as the professor passed her, she opened her blue eyes, glanced to the side to see him take one small glance in her direction and exit down a staircase. Bulma began to slow her pace. She glanced down the stair case. Those eyes, they were blank. There was nothing to them. They didn't even have that stupid glint of excitement when he knew he was pissing her off. Was he angry? She shook her head. She should be glad he was gone from her presence. Where was he in such a hurry to?

She huffed and began to curse under her breath, careful that no one around her could hear her small semi-silent conversation she was having with herself. Her ran her hand through her wavy long locks and bit her lip. As weird as it sounded, she felt like an asshole for running from him the night before. It was weird. She shouldn't want to talk to him, let alone be contemplating going back to his class just for the duel they had going constantly, but in an odd sense she missed it. Yes, Yamcha had been right, but then again Yamcha also had a thing for her. Mr. Ouji wasn't just any professor. He was a younger, and more attractive than any professor she ever had. My goodness, why did she have to keep thinking of his looks? This was an asshole, not a saint! He was her version of Satan. She let you a frustrated yell.

She sighed softly and rushed down the stairwell toward the professor. Her blue eyes frantically searched the empty corridors. Even though she was ridiculously tired she forced herself down each hallway until she realized she was near his office. She waltz right up to the door and began to knock. There was no sound. She knocked persistently upon the door, and still no answer. She turned around and flattened her back against the door. Opening her eyes slowly, she stared back into the square frames and black, wide eyes. She was looking right into a seriously face. He pulled his reading material far from his eyes and tilted his head to the side.

"What do we have here?" He drawled out, opening his mouth slightly to suck in a breath. He lifted his hand and flicked it, forcing her away from the handle. He pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. The clinking and jingling stopped as soon as he pulled the right key free and pushed his door open softly, sliding the keys back into his pocket. He glanced to his side, observing the ridiculous look she had plastered on her face before narrowing his eyes.

"Are you going in, or are you going to look at me with that stupid look for another hour?" Vegeta's black brows rose quickly, keeping his direct line of vision locked with hers.

Bulma slipped passed him and sat in one of the chairs away from his neat desk. She bit her lower lip and waited for him to sit down, which he did quickly. He set his neat stacked pile of papers in a certain pile and then signed into the teacher's log on their online server, obviously looking through unread messages pertaining to class work and such. Vegeta's strong hand gripped his chin as he scrolled down the computer screen, taking quick glances and then moving on. He didn't once look at her.

Bulma placed her hands upon her knees, glancing up at the clock. She might be a little late, but she didn't care. Well, she guessed she cared slightly. The class she was going to was actually decent. Instead she was sitting in the office of a professor who didn't give a shit about anyone except for himself. He was a man who was crazy, and had to have it his way entirely. She took in a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak.

"So, are you going to tell me what this is about? I have a meeting with the dean in ten minutes." He muttered calmly, as he continued to scroll.

"I was just about to say, that…" She scrambled for a thought, damn, this man made her loose her train of thought constantly. And what did he say? He was going to have sex with the dean? "Well,"

"Did you come to apologize for driving off with that air head friend of yours?" The professor signed off and turned in his chair, meeting her eyes once again. He leaned back and looked her over quickly with his focused eyes.

Bulma instantly ignited with heat, from head to toe. She pursed her lips together and looked slightly confused before shaking her head, "He isn't an air head," She shot back, "As for this supposed apology, I was going to say no such thing." She leaned forward, narrowing her blue eyes at him. Unfortunately, she was going to apologize and that he could see through that annoyed her further. She wasn't going to admit a thing.

"Oh, well then, what do you want? I am tired of your silly girlish games. I have bigger and better things to tend to." He crossed his arms over his chest, meeting eyes with her and looking upon her with an annoyed expression.

Like fucking your boss? You prick…

"Girlish? I just came to see what you wanted to speak about? If I remember correctly, it was you who suggested speaking in the dead of night in your car, pervert." She pointed her finger directly at him, "I am sorry that I didn't feel comfortable."

"That wasn't what I intended to do. If I remember correctly it was actually a bus stop where others clearly were sitting. You see, foolish girl, I wanted to discuss something rather important regarding my class. I was choosing a few students from each of my classes with potential to participate in labs with myself. Of course if you participated in these labs and did well, the school would send a letter of recommendation for yourself to get into whatever grad-school you intend on going to. With my signature and letter, as well as the Universities, you cannot go wrong. Not to mention a pretty scholarship to boot. I only pick those students who have a high enough GPA, and show potential. I feel as if I was wrong about you, Ms. Williams." Vegeta placed his hands on the arms of his computer chair, stroking the material with his fingertips.

"Wait…what?" Bulma shook her head, leaning forward, placing her elbows on her knees, and cradled her face in her hands. Was this guy not just threating to speak about that day in this very office if she didn't talk with him? This whole time she figured he was going to beg and plead with her about not going to the higher ups with this information. Where in the hell was this coming from?

"I was going to e-mail you the other evening, like I said, or even call. I have been pushing back the deadline in order to get those who I see are fit for the lab. When you dropped I knew I needed more time to speak with you, unfortunately, this morning was the deadline and I had to pick another candidate. You didn't speak with me the other night, and I was actually shocked we crossed paths. Though I see you aren't mature enough, or willing to participate." Mr. Ouji shrugged.

"Mr. Ouji, why didn't you speak with me or say something sooner?" Bulma whispered, completely distraught.

"You didn't give me enough time to say much of anything. You most likely just figured I was there to speak to you about how I obliged you and spanked your bottom." He looked down the length of legs, which were covered in a sheer pair of leggings, holding tightly to her shapely calves and thighs.

"I didn't ask for that, you know." Bulma tilted her head to the side.

"No, but you practically egged it on. You wanted to see how far I was willing to go. Of course you found out quickly I am not your 'normal' professor. It was definitely crossing the line, but something tells me, Ms. Williams that you enjoyed it a little too much. But, as I was saying before, I have a meeting." He stood up slowly, collecting his glasses case and stuffed it in his pocket.

"I am willing to do anything to get into your class again," Bulma reached for him, grabbing his shoulder. The professor stiffened feeling her hand gripping his suit jacket.

"Release my jacket, Brandi." He glanced over his shoulder, meeting her eyes with those cruel pits.

"Please, stop torturing me. This isn't a game. I am willing to sit through your stupid class and listen to you bad mouth me till the end of this semester if it means this Universities signature, and a scholarship. I will prove to you that I can do it." Bulma released him instantly and cupped her hands, "Please, Mr. Ouji, I will do anything." Bulma usually didn't resort to begging, but this would help not only her, but her poor mother who would be stuck with the bill, which she already had to fight with her over. Lorelei had wanted to put her through college for years, but Bulma never wanted her to spend that much money. Unfortunately she had paid plenty of her college loans already after much convincing. This was free money and ultimately saving her mother.

Vegeta began to grin softly, "Anything?"

Bulma nodded her head slowly, "Anything," She gritted her teeth wanting nothing more than to slam her fist between his eyes. Gods, he was such a conniving asshole. She knew she shouldn't have uttered the word 'anything' in front of him. He was eating it up, and then some.

"If I speak with the dean, and she agrees, I will accept you into the lab. Though, I require one thing of you." He stroked his chin, looking her over quickly.

"Fuck me," She whispered softly, closing her eyes. In an instant she realized what had just come out of her mouth, without realizing how silly it sounded at that particular moment. She shook her head, but gasped and waved her hands around, "That is not what I meant, what I meant was…" She blinked rapidly and gripped the material around her neck, "Was, 'why me'." Bulma sighed softly, cupping her face, "Just tell me?"

Vegeta contemplated those words a moment, but finally spoke, "Come out with me for a drink," He nodded to her.

"A drink?" Bulma whispered, glancing up at him with those big blue eyes.

"Stop giving me that ridiculous look. Would it make you feel better if I asked you to get up on my desk and…?"

"No! A drink, a drink is acceptable." She nodded, rolled her eyes and gripping her bag tighter to her body, "Thank you," She managed to force from her lips as she pushed passed him and rushed to class.

She pushed her brown locks behind her ear, smirking to herself. Why in the hell did she feel satisfied?

ooOoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that was enjoyable! Thanks again and review!
> 
> -Mallie


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unmasked
> 
> Chapter Six
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing!
> 
> Music: Keeps Gettin' Better By: Christina Aguilera

ooOoo

Bulma yanked up her pants, buttoning them and pulling her t-shirt over her hips. She pulled her dark brown hair to the side, meshing it with her fingers and observing herself quickly, applying chap stick in the mean time. She closed her eyes. Why was she so nervous. It wasn't like this was an actual date, right? A date with her professor? Annoyed, that was the only emotion she had been feeling ever since she decided to tell Stephanie where she was going. Yes, she put on make-up, yes she put on nicer clothing, and actually gave a fuck about her hair, who didn't once and a while. This was not going to happen every time she decided to tell Stephanie. If Steph was going to be right there up her ass about where she was going and who she was screwing, the cold shoulder she was going to have to live with. She loved her friend to death, but Steph honestly was too much at times. Especially at this very moment.

Bulma should not be nervous. Like she had been reminding herself over and over it was to discuss the rules of this research group, and a drink? A drink was all he asked for. So be it. She wasn't afraid of a small drink. How could any student, planning on furthering their education, honestly pass up an opportunity such as this? Bulma looked herself in the mirror, brushing her fingers of the old scar across her cheek, and shrugged. Her blue eyes narrowed slightly as she sucked in a few desperate breaths.

"This is going to have to do..." She spoke aloud.

"Only a few hours," Her hand sifted nervously through her long wavy hair.

Steph glanced up from a work book and raised a brow, "Stop talking to yourself, loser. Just flash him a tit and it will be peachy." She pursed her cherry colored lips and pointed to the ceiling, "A letter of recommendation, why, yes please, Mr. Professor," She batted her fake lashes ridiculously and wobbled her head back and forth.

Bulma glanced over her shoulders, "Mind your business, ass" a scowl formed on her lips.

Stephanie bit her lower lip and lifted the book slowly up over her face, "Sorry."

Bulma flipped a sheer shirt over her tank and stepped into her shoes, grabbing a bag and heading to the door, "I'll be back later,"

"No, you don't want to come back. I'll be praying to the god of sex, so you may finally get laid! You know you need to!" She shouted in the direction of Bulma's receding form, "You know you want it, stop playing!"

She rolled her eyes and rushed to the elevator. She didn't have much time to get to the pub that Vegeta mentioned, but she definitely was on time to catch the bus. It had been many years since she had stepped foot in this establishment. The food was decent, but she heard the drinks were large and cheap. She liked cheap, large alcoholic beverages. That was the problem with many of these bars on campus, their drinks were expensive and they put way too much ice and not enough alcohol.

She let a sigh of relief escape, happy that the Mr. Ouji wasn't out in his car waiting for her to exit the dorms. No, he had allowed her to take her own way, which honestly she was shocked. He was persistent, not as odd as Yamcha, but pretty damn close. Who was she trying to fool, he was much odder than Yamcha, and that was a hard thing to accomplish.

She shifted her wrist, glancing down at her watch. She had about 25 minutes to get there without him making a big deal. Control was his obsession. This man wanted and craved control, but so didn't she, right? All her life she had to pretend to be someone, act a certain way, blend in. This was her new life, she demanded control. Usually, when it came to her way, she got it. She wasn't going to let him make her feel like she was beneath him. She had a good feelings about tonight, hopefully this feeling was correct.

Don't let him get to you. Think about what you will be getting if you follow through. This is your path to what you wish to accomplish. Everything is being placed in the palm of your hand...

OoOoo

She arrived at the pub, the illuminated signs nearly blinded her upon entry. The music was a little too loud and the sound of drunken laughter hand already begun; typical for a friday night. It was nearly as packed as it was said to get in here. It was the first day of the weekend and it wasn't even close to 10PM. That was the night life usually began on campus. She slipped out of her jacket feeling a thin layer of perspiration form over her skin. She sucked in a nervous breath and forced herself to scan the bar stools. Nothing but a few red faced drunks.

Bulma shifted her gaze to a group of randomly placed customers, who were busy watching the game on the oversize elevisions. The smell of cooking food instantly made her stomach begin to growl. She sniffed, swiping a finger under her nose and shifting her stance, answering quickly to a server trying to seat her. Bulma glanced back down at her watch, tapping it. Yes, it was still working. She was five minutes early. He had to be here. There would be no way that this guy would actually risk being late. She would never let him live it down. He couldn't honestly be stupid enough to allow that to happen.

Bulma stepped forward and entered through the back. Servers rushed past her, apologizing in the process. She narrowed her eyes and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she moved further into the pub. Finally spotting him secluded at his bar style table, which were placed by the large double windows in a party sized back room. She approached him quickly, which didn't seem to break his concentration. Vegeta's elbow was propped and his strong hand cupped his chin as he focused on the small, empty park across the street.

Bulma stopped and opened her mouth, "You are early. Congrats to you, proving me wrong, finally.." Her professor turned his dark brown gaze toward her, smirking as he noticed her mouth snap shut.

"Well, you gave me a specific time and I figured since I ditched you before I should make it up to you. Don't push me though, I was feeling generous tonight." She grunted, nearly jumping up the chair. Stupid bar chairs and their annoyingly tall legs.

"I see, well thank you for being so gracious." He drawled out, his tone dripping with sarcasm. The temptation was there. She reacted beautifully to him at times. Honestly, he loved to mess with the poor girl. So quick to react. Unfortunately, some of his 'messing' around wasn't very appropriate when it came to this young student. He had to remind himself every time he saw her. He had been kicking himself since the day he decided to punish her cruelly in his office.

Vegeta grinned, stroking his chin and looking her over quickly, "You look nice," He lowered his tone and leaned in. His black brow arched, noticing her stiffening posture.

Bulma's blue eyes shifted, she swallowed, "Don't poke fun at me." She murmured seriously.

Vegeta's forehead creased and he leaned in, "I'm..."

"Oh she is here, perfect!" a feminine voice called. A taller woman with luscious curves and a head of amazing curled brown hair caught Bulma's attention. Her blue eyes widened as she looked directly into the eyes of the Dean. Yes, the same Dean who was being banged on her desk by...

Awkward.

Bulma sucked in a breath and shifted away from her, forcing a smile. She honestly didn't know what to say. She sure as hell wasn't about to shake her hand. Who knows where that hand had been today. There was a good chance that thing had just recently been on Mr. Ouji's...

"Dick," The dean said nodding her head, Bulma nearly choked on the water she was nervously sipping. Her brows shot up, which caught the attention of Vegeta who was leering at her, "That sill man had the nerve to call me at this time. He knows I am not available after 5PM on the weekdays. Friday isn't any different." She pursed her peach colors lips and tucked some of that beautiful hair behind her ear.

Bulma instantly shifted her wide eyes back to Vegeta who was sitting calmly, hands together and an unreadable expression plastered to his face. His student tried to keep down every ounce of anger that was welling from deep within her. She tried to look like a normal, sane individual, but the desire to lean forward and punch her professor in the face was becoming a little hard to keep down.

"Brandi, right?" The Dean of Psychology leaned over after seating herself directly beside her, and offering her a hand.

"Yes," Bulma smiled as sweetly as she could. Technically it wasn't this woman's fault. It was the man responsibly for this. She hesitantly reached out and took her hand, shaking it quickly and cutting all contact. Bulma slipped her hand under the table and leaned over to get a quick peek at her small hand bag. The small bag attached to her side was thankfully in reach. She yanked it up and retrieved a small bottle of hand sanitizer, trying to get rid of anything that she may have touched.

Just go out for a drink with me, yes, and then I can bring the woman I know you saw me fucking and dangle her in your face for a few hours...

"Are you alright?" she leaned in and asked, which Bulma responded with a nod, "I'm sorry, I am Andrea Michaels, Dean of Psychology."

"I know, well, I mean I have heard of you." Bulma chuckled nervously and ran a hand through her hair, trying to keep from slouching.

"Oh that is great. I am glad that my name gets around. All positive I hope?" She smiled beautifully.

"Oh yes," Bulma offered a fake chuckle. Of course...

"So Vegeta here has told me that you have much knowledge in this particular field and your dedication is inspiring. I am so glad I got to meet you myself. He tells me that you would be perfect for the research program, and if you deliver we will surely offer you letter of rec. and all. We are pleased to have you apart of the team, Brandi." She nodded, stroking that fabulous hair of hers. Why in gods name was she wishing for a pair of scissors at this very moment? God, she hated being her at this particular moment.

"Brandi," Vegeta said in a gruff tone, pulling her from her day dream, "We are going to get a few drinks, are you hungry?"

"No...I don't think so. A drink would be good though." The younger woman smiled. Was this even professional? She didn't know, but as long as she had a little bit of alcohol in her she could stomach the rest of this meeting and be done with it.

"You have to share the pub pickles with me, they are amazing. Then we can get down to business." Andrea smiled, offering her a menu, "Make sure you eat something, empty stomachs and alcohol do not mix, dear, I am sure you know that. You are a small thing." She took notice of her slender build.

They quickly pulled out the requirements, which they all that was listed was self explanatory. Everything was written down and she absolutely had no questions, other than when was she able to leave? Bulma was allowed assist others with their research or create research of their own. Something she was a little excited about was publishing her own research, which could be done if accepted. Andrea didn't seem so bad, but anyone could put on a face when they were first meeting someone. She gave her credit, considering she didn't yet find anything that she honestly couldn't stand about the woman. It could have been because she bought her a round of drinks. She was almost positive this wasn't at all professional, but hey, she wasn't going to complain. Free drinks were free drinks.

Bulma quickly ordered a few drinks, downing them quicker then the other two seated with her at the table. She noticed that rather quickly her mood was beginning to heighten. Of course she could thank good 'ol alcohol for that one.

"So, do you have any questions at all?" Andrea smiled, tipping back her mug and taking a small drink. Their plates were mainly empty, except for Bulma's, who didn't have a plate to account for.

The young student shrugged, taking a fry from Vegeta's plate, "No I think everything is self explanatory. I just need to get on it." Bulma shrugged, leaning back against the chair, "You know, this is going to be fun. Especially with you two." Bulma winked playfully, "You know what, I do have a question. So, are you two dating or what? Working together, you know temptation and all," She asked, leaning in and popping a battered pickle between her lips, grinning at her professor, who was glaring at her from the opposite side of the table. Yep, she just went there. Bulma flipped her own hair over her shoulder and glanced toward Andrea, wiggling her brows. Gosh, Steph would be so proud if she were here. Dear lord, she was going to hate herself in the morning when she actually was alone and pondering everything that just occurred this evening. Why did alcohol give her balls the size of Canada? She didn't know, but deep down she kind of liked it.

Andrea nearly spit her drink back up into her mug. She shook her head violently and began to chuckle, wiping her lips delicately with a napkin. She shifted her brown eyes toward Bulma and smiled, almost nervously, "Oh gosh, no. I am his boss. This is nothing but a professional relationship." she wiggled her fingers, motioning between her and Professor Ouji.

What the fuck ever, lady! Oh, I'm sorry that my vagina accidentally fell on your dick at work! Please, give me a break!

Bulma instantly brought the drink to her lips and shook her head, trying to keep back a laugh that was fighting to break free. Her lips were pursed and her face was growing redder by the second. She coughed, doubling over on the bar table.

"I am so sorry," Bulma belted out over a fit of laughter, throwing her head back and laughing hysterically. She couldn't. This was too good. The dean definitely had no idea what she had witnessed. Her professor was the only one that knew. The look on his face was priceless. Wiggling in his seat, looking at her like he wanted to knock her unconscious so she would stop this.

"Oh man,"Bulma whispered, wiping the tears from her eyes, "Sorry, alcohol makes me say stupid things. So you aren't dating?" Her blue eyes shifted between them. Andrea and Vegeta both were looking at her completely awestruck by her ridiculous fit of laughter. Mr. Ouji seemed more surprised out of the two. Andrea, however, had a awkward nervous smile, which had to be fake, but she gave her credit. Vegeta looked at her like he didn't know how to take this side of her at all. 'Brandi' who was usually a quiet and serious young woman, laughing like never before. She was honestly impressed with herself. She made this night her own little game. Two can play at this game, Mr. Ouji. This had been fun, but she knew she had better redirect this little before it...nope.

"No, we aren't dating. She already explained that to you," Vegeta spoke next, hidden malice in his tone.

"Well, someone had a little too much to drink," Andrea began to chuckle softly, breaking the tension, "You should have eaten more." She eyed Vegeta nervously, before waving to the waitress for their bill, "We shouldn't have discussed this with alcohol." She giggled nervously, "I will get the check, make sure she gets home. I wouldn't want anything to happen to the poor girl on the ride home." Her lips pursed and she stood abruptly, card in hand.

"No, just a buzz. It was a serious question. You don't have to be embarrassed, Andrea. Your secret is safe with me." Bulma whispered the last portion behind the palm of her hand in the deans direction, sweetly smiling and offering a wink for good measure.

"No, let me get this," Vegeta reached for his back pocket, shooting daggers at Bulma.

"Nonsense. I will get it, Vegeta. Just see that she gets home. I will call you later to discuss more." She raised a brow, which Bulma didn't at all notice. She was too busy finishing her drink.

"Get up, we are leaving." Vegeta shifted his eyes around carefully before gripping her wrist and pulling her up, placing a hand against the small of her back and directing her toward the exit.

ooOoo

Bulma pushed through the door and inhaled the cold air. She turned and smiled, trying to keep back more laughter, "Well, I will take the bus home. Sorry for the awkward topic choice. Hopefully that doesn't make things awkward for you at work."

"No, you are going to be driven home." He growled out, gripping her by the arm and dragging her toward the parking lot.

"Hey, what is your deal?" Bulma shouted, yanking back on her arm. She winced as his grip tightened with each rebellious pull on her part.

"I don't want to listen to your pitiful whining any more. I will not argue with you the entire way to your dorm room. Just get in the car and shut up." He nearly snarled at her.

"What are you angry about, huh?" She giggled playfully, knowing full well why he was angry, "Scared? Don't tell me you might loose your job. All you have to do is screw her again and she will be just fine." Laughter belted from the young woman once again as she pulled away from him. Vegeta instantly turned and shoved his cold hands into the pockets of his jacket. His eyes glowed with anger as he watched her shift her posture, looking dominate and trying prove to him that she was indeed intimidating. It just wasn't working, he was too angry at the moment to even take her seriously with that entire childish display in the pub. Bulma's arms were crossed and her chin tilted up, and she was slightly narrowing her eyes just because. The brunette before him pursed her lips and offered him a tiny smirk, but he wasn't playing.

"This isn't a game. I didn't find that amusing." Vegeta shook his head, looking around to make sure that Andrea truly was gone.

"Oh really? Well, it sure seemed like a game to me. Now hold on a damn minute, did you just say you aren't amused? Oh my fucking goodness. I stopped being amused the first day I met you. It has been getting older and older by the second. I don't understand why I continue to associate myself with your insanity." Bulma paused, sucking in tiny breaths of frustration, "Really, you had to completely embarrass me like this? You never said anything about another person coming, let alone that particular person." Bulma asked him, dropping her arms to her side, "Especially after everything that I witnessed between you both, my god. You knew it would be awkward, yet you brought her anyway. I really don't understand you one god damned bit, but you really are sick for playing with me the way you do." Her lips pursed, turning away from him.

Instantly his hands lifted to his head, he looked rather confused at what she was going on about.

"Stop being childish," Vegeta frowned, "I didn't invite her to play with you. She insisted that she meet you. I allowed her to come because she wouldn't leave it alone. She told me personally that she wouldn't sign your acceptance into this program other wise. Your welcome. Now, shut up and get in the car."

Bulma lowered her gaze and sucked in a slow breath. Her eyes narrowed and her lips dropped open. "I'm not being childish! Don't lie," She shouted at his form as he walked away.

"God damn, woman, I am not lying. You know how honest I am. What would I have to gain, hm?" He threw her an annoyed glare, "Why are you trying to reprimand me? Don't talk down to me, you are lucky I continued to offer you something like this. After continuously proving to be immature. No one is stopping you, woman. You can walk away. I am sure you can obtain a letter from your other teachers. This doesn't have to be the one. There are plenty of other programs." He paused and watched as she contemplated everything being said. She was shifting through emotions rather quickly and the influence of alcohol wasn't helping her. Bulma began to mutter to herself, completely done with the whole situation.

She definitely jumped the gun on this one. Letting her anger and jeal... letting her anger get the better of her. Slowly she followed him to the car. Her head was spinning with emotion. No one had ever had this effect on her before. He was right to question her. No one was important enough to be angry over. The brunette sighed dramatically, feeling pitifully stupid at this very moment. She honestly shouldn't have drank so much. Bulma knew she most likely made an ass out of herself. Right in front of her professor, and in front of the dean who didn't seem to thrilled to be there after her comment. For all she knew she blew it for herself. Bulma slid into her the car and closed the door. Vegeta sat there, quiet.

Finally Bulma spoke, "Sorry, this is why I usually don't drink. I tend to say and do stupid shit. I drink, but not often. I like to do my own thing. I shouldn't have said those things." she ran a hand through her hair, "I honestly hope it doesn't cost you your job."

"No, it won't." He said gruffly.

God, I hate apologizing!

Vegeta glanced over at her and raised a brow, amused, "Glad you can admit to your wrong." He smirked. Bulma's jaw clenched tightly, annoyed instantly. She prickled and crossed her arms over her chest, "I honestly didn't mean for her to be there. You won't have to deal with that 'problem' any more. It was interesting to see how she reacted, though. She was not expecting that at all." Vegeta shrugged, clearing his throat and then becoming very serious. He knew, ultimately, he would hear about this particular discussion on Monday. Bulma glanced toward him, surprised with his sudden change in tone. Was that his way of apologizing?

"So, did you honestly want to go out and get a drink with me? Or was it strictly work?" She glanced up at him, her blue eyes shining with interest.

He grinned, glaring down at her and shoving his key into the ignition, "Were you hoping for it to be a date, woman?" His deep brown eyes softened as they regarded her quickly. He was god damned amused!

Bulma closed her eyes tightly. It was the alcohol. It was the alcohol. She had been drinking. Her head wasn't in the right state. Though, she couldn't knock this odd attraction she had for this asshole. The only negative in this situation was he was her professor. Why did he have to be her professor? Why did he have to look and smell absolutely amazing?

"Yes," Bulma croaked out, swallowing hard.

"You're an idiot." Her professor instantly spoke, chuckling to himself, making her feel lower than low.

"Why are you so harsh, you asshole?" Bulma sucked in a shaky breath, feeling utterly pathetic at this very moment. She pursed her lips, allowing her eyes to take him in. What is with this guy? She knew he didn't view her as just a student, why wouldn't he just go with it? Damn, she felt more and more foolish by the second.

Vegeta leaned over and took her chin between his fingers, roughly turning her to face him. He looked down at her, staring directly at her lips, "Why were you just looking at me like that?" He asked, brushing the rough pad of his thumb over her lower lip.

"Like what?" Bulma spoke quicker than she would have liked, but then stuttered, "I am not sure," She lied, shrugging her shoulders and swallowing hard. Her tongue instantly dipped out, wetting her dry lips. Sucking in a breath she leaned in slowly, pressing out her torso and gripping the center counsel.

"I think you know exactly what you are doing, girl." Vegeta nodded, gripping her chin harder, pushing himself up and situating in the drivers seat, "You are playing a dangerous game." He murmured, "You are my student. I am your professor. I shouldn't have asked you out for a drink. I regret that now." Vegeta spoke softly, his eyes remaining hard and concentrated. Bulma's eyes softened and she nodded once in acknowledgment.

"I wouldn't have minded going out for a drink with you alone. I am sure that is exactly what you had in mind originally, but you have yet to admit to it." Her eyes darkened, and she leaned closer, almost whispering it, "Would you stop treating me like I am an underage child? I think I am adult enough to make decisions for myself. If I asked to go home with you tonight I would request that you treat me like a woman, not a girl." Vegeta could sense the growing tension between them. He slid his hand behind her neck and stroked, gripping it tightly so she couldn't move any closer. They were mere inches from touching noses. Bulma let out a defeated sigh. Gosh, she never reacted quite like this to any guy she wanted to have sex with. Vegeta whispered a curse to himself and looked away instantly. Was he just as tempted by what she had just said? He surprised her next.

"Don't tempt me, woman." He growled lowly in his throat, and Bulma pushed forward pressing her soft lips to his. Vegeta's eyes widened in shock. Was he offended by her boldness? She decided to test his limit. She closed her eyes and her tongue dipped between his lips, tasting him. His lips yielded to her the moment they touched. Interesting. Vegeta could instantly taste the alcohol coating her mouth and he was almost positive she could taste the beer on his. He doubted it tasted good. He pulled away, taking note that they both had been drinking and it would not be a good mix at all.

"No, don't stop now," She whined, tossing herself back against the seat, gripping her thighs and kneeding the flesh.

"Woman, stop this. You have had too much to drink. Not only that, but there are plenty of other reasons why this should not be happening." He growled, gripping the steering wheel. He bit his inner cheek and looked around, glancing to his rear view mirror and then shifting his attention back to her. He wasn't comfortable with this at all. He was acting like a caged animal. Hot and cold. Mixed signals was all this guy had been sending her way. Finally she acts on this need to fuck the guy and he shrivels up like a prune.

"So, then why are you fucking the dean?" She nearly shouted at him, "It is just sex, I didn't request a commitment." Bulma brushed her hair from her eyes and rolled them, "This is so off putting. It seemed like a good idea at first and now I am just feeling utterly pathetic."

"Trust me, the request is rather intriguing to me," Vegeta shifted his eyes, meeting hers with a look of dark desire, "You are my student. It would be an easy decision for me if our situation wasn't as complicated."

"Oh my god, you spanked me not too long ago. I think we are far from being uncomplicated, you idiot." Bulma laughed out loud noticing he was not at all amused by that fact, "You know what, I am taking the bus. Thanks for offering to take me home, but I am leaving." She reached for the door handle and pushed it open. Her professor instantly yanked her back in. Gripping her upper arm so tightly she thought it would surely break. She was slammed against the back of the seat. Bulma was breathing heavily, shifting a nervous glance toward him. He was breathing heavier than before. With out a word he leaned in and brushed his lips against her earlobe.

"If I take you home," He paused, breathing softly in her ear, "This will not turn personal, this will be on my terms and class will resume as usual. You will do everything that is required and not request anything in return. This is just sex. Are we clear?" Vegeta murmured, looking down to the swell of her heaving breasts.

Bulma nodded turning her head ever so carefully, looking him in the eye. God, his voice was so commanding, dominating. She didn't mind that one bit. She felt like a dog in heat, but look at him. She needed hot sex, good sex. Why not check off 'sex-with-your-professor' from her bucket list?

"Do you want me to fuck you, Brandi? Is this what you want? Because honestly that is all I have been thinking about since I spanked your ass in my office." He breathed against her lips, causing her full to part her own lips in hopes he would do more than just talk about it. She tilted her chin toward him, hoping that he would kiss her. She wanted him to take control of this situation.

"Yes please," She found herself saying. She didn't think, she just spoke.

ooOoo

Vegeta tossed her nude form upon the sheets of his bed. He reached down and gripped the button of his pants, looming over her. The naked contours of his chest were chiseled with muscle and the shadows painted across his abs from the light had her head spinning. Bulma crawled back and watched him slip his pants down the length of his legs, stepping out of them and placing his knee upon the bed. Bulma was slowly coming down from her alcoholic buzz, but of course her good friend 'adrenaline' had already kicked in. Not to mention she was completely readied by him on the way over. Having her suck him off as he sped down the interstate to his neighboring town was enough to drive her crazy. How controlling and rough he was with her hair and body excited her. She wanted to mount him. She wanted him, badly. She could barely stand the drive.

Bulma didn't expect him to actually take her to his house. She had had sex in a cars plenty of times. She figured he would take her to some place and have his way with her in the back seat. He didn't talk when he ended up pulling into a driveway and stepping out. She had questioned him the entire time, yet he didn't respond. When he got her inside. He shut her up with his hand, roughly pressing her against the wall and traveling the length of her body, using his hands and tongue to prob her deliciously. A reward for using her tongue correctly? Her body headed straight on into a mind blowing orgasm before she could even process what he was doing to her. He knew how to use his thick fingers and tongue to pleasure her, and he didn't stop until he was satisfied.

Bulma arched as another orgasm rolled over her. She threw her head back and cried out, gripping her thighs tightly, holding them open as Vegeta devoured her core. His fingers parted her nether lips and the tip of his tongue traced up the center of her opening, enjoying the taste of her flowing juices. He lifted his gaze and smirked as he watched her peaking breasts heave as she tried to catch her breath. His hand stroked up the center of her flat stomach, massaging each breast before sitting up. He rubbed the front of his boxer, situating the position of his cock, as it pressed awkwardly against the material.

Bulma finally leaned forward and reached for him, reaching in to grip the front of his boxers, which housed his massive erection. He gripped her hands and flipping her onto her back. He leaned in and pressed her body into the bed, stroking his fingertips over the length of her smooth thighs and calves. Inhaling deeply, Vegeta gripped her hair, yanking her head back and devouring her throat as he ground his heavy erection against her swollen core.

Bulma moaned toward the ceiling, stroking her fingertips against his back, bucking against him. She needed to feel him, needed him in her and now. His hand slide between her thighs once again, pulling her soaked panties to the side and pushing two fingers into her moist center. Bulma sucked in a breath and whispered.

"God," Her eyes fluttered closed.

He nipped at the lace around her breast, and roughly pulled down. He exposed her right nipple, taking the swell of her pink tip between his lips, sucking strongly and nipping it harder than she would have liked. The small brunette below him arched her back, bucking her hips against his pumping fingers, trying to bring herself to release. To her frustration he pulled them back and inspected his fingers, taking them between his lips and sucking the juices that coated them completely off.

Bulma's brows knitted, watching through lidded eyes as he wrapped his lips around his fingers and lick her glistening substance from those thick fingers of his. Something feral stirred in her. Heat spread across her lower belly and into her core, making her bloom more for him. She was ready, she just wanted it now. Why wait?

"Spread your legs wider," He gruffly said in her head, leaning down once again to suck her swollen nipple.

Bulma complied and parted her quivering thighs, placing her hands upon her knees and looking down the length of her torso and watched as he slide a hand down the front of his boxers, pulled them down his chiseled hips, causing his cock to bob free from their confides. The material of his boxers were just past the crack of his shapely ass, when he reached back up and gripped himself tightly. Stroking the hard length of himself. His swollen head was reddened with desire and a soft hiss slipped from his lips as his thumb caressed over the mushroom top. He slid a hand across the sheets and gripped a small packet, taking the condom out and sliding it over his painfully hard manhood.

Vegeta dipped forward, rubbing the head against her core, pushing up between her lips, causing Bulma to slide down in her position, leaning in to watch as he slowly edged into her, inch by inch. She began to whisper to herself, trying to get him to move faster with his entry. She wanted all of him in her, now.

Vegeta sensed her need, her desire to have him to the hilt inside of her warmth. With that he thrust himself forward, hitting as far as he could go. Their bodies collided with force, causing her head to hit the headboard. He arched over her, gripping the plush comforter just above her head. His brow knitted in concentration as he pulled from her slightly before diving back within her. Her heat enveloped him, coated him. He slid right in with ease as she was ready for him, ready and tight.

"So wet," His delicious voice rumbled against her ear, shooting tremors down her spine. Her finger nails dug deep into the flesh of his back as he began to ride her mercilessly into the bed. The wooden head board slammed against the wall, causing the painting above the bed to shake and the wall lights to flicker.

Bulma couldn't help herself. She would have honestly been embarrassed by the noises emoting from her very voice box. She was gasping, pushing up to meet every hard thrust of his cock. She couldn't take it. The power that surged through her very core had her riding head on into the longest and most intense orgasm she had ever experience during sex. Her blue eyes rolled as she gasped for breath.

"Oh my god, oh my god," She nearly screamed, gripping a handful of his hair. Vegeta snarled, gripping her hips and twisting her upon the sheets. Her hands instantly sought out steady ground, grabbing for anything in mid air. Bulma's knees burned a track down the rough material of the comforter as she landed in the position he clearly wanted. His rough hands massaged the soft swells of her rear.

He gripped her shapely hips roughly and drove deep with in her as her shaky knees planted themselves against the soft mattress. His legs parted and it didn't take him long to gain speed once again. His head dropped back. This woman had no idea what she was doing to him. She was tight, wet and felt absolutely amazing. If she kept clenching around him the way she was, he would explode. He leaned in and gripped her shoulder, yanking her up. Vegeta wrapped his arm around her mid-section, trailing his hand to her clit, rubbing his fingers against the hardened flesh. Bulma rested her head against his shoulder, panting against his ear.

"Come," He commanded, plucking her clit and thrusting roughly, finding the sweet spot within her, causing her to gasp out in surprise. Bulma moaned, biting her lower lip and pushed back against him, hoping to god her body would give her what she wanted.

"Come, I want you to come on my cock." Her professor growled against her neck, licking a trail to her earlobe.

Bulma whimpered, thrusting against his hand, and biting her fingernails into his wrists. She panted, crying out as her body slacked as release swallowed her up. Her blue eyes closed, and her breathing became erratic. She couldn't take it. As she began to come hard, Vegeta pushed her down, holding her in place as he barked out a groan. His balls tightened and his cock pulsed as hot spurts shot up into the condom. Her walls clenched, milking him completely dry. He was spent. He couldn't move. Vegeta felt a droplet of sweat slid down the tip of his nose and watched it as it fell upon the moist back of his partner. He sucked in a steady breath and with drew, giving her right butt cheek a soft pat.

He leaned in and nipped her ear, "I love the sound you make when you come, little one." He murmured against her ear. Bulma grinned against the pillow.

"Wow, I don't want to move." Bulma finally spoke, glancing over her shoulder as he sat back and pealed the condom from his softening manhood. She watched his mouth as he took in steady breaths. She wanted to kiss that mouth. He didn't seem too much into the kissing them. She wasn't surprised. Kissing was intimate, she supposed.

"You smoke?" He asked, pushing himself up and off the bed. Her professor slowly walked naked toward the bathroom, glancing over his shoulder, watching her as she situated her bra and panties.

"Yes, you know that." Bulma whispered softly, running a hand through her sex hair, wiping a hand across her dry lips.

"You college students and your on again, off again habits. You never know." His voice carried, echoing within the bathroom. Bulma could hear the sound of the sink. It shut off and he came out with a robe. In his mouth he had a cigarette. He tossed Bulma an extra robe and raised a brow, "Take off those dirty garments, Brandi. I am sure you don't wish to sleep in them." She complied almost instantly. Her juices were running down her leg and they covered her panties. She honestly hated having sex with them on, but at the moment she didn't even mind. After placing the robe around her she raised a brow, playing what he said back in her mind.

Sleep? Did he want her to spend the night? Odd...

He waved her to follow him out to a small veranda just outside the double doors within his master bedroom. He had a pretty nice house for a college professor. It was small, but cozy. Not to mention he did have good tastes when it came to furniture, even though most of them were black or grey.

"I left my cigarettes in your car, can I..." Bulma paused as his hand snapped out and offered her one from the pack in his robe pocket, "Thank you." She whispered, feeling a tad off. The adrenaline began to decline and her buzz was pretty much gone. Her extra confidence was no where to be seen. They only thing she harbored now was this pitiful awkward feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Vegeta lit his cigarette and offered her his lighter. He blew out a cloud of white smoke, looking up at the night sky. Bulma looked up, she could see the blinking lights from the landing airplanes overhead, and hear the dog barking down the street. It was mostly quiet in this neighborhood. The brunette wrapped her arms around her shivering form. Vegeta then leaned in and turned on a outside heater, he sucked in another drag and then decided he would be the one to break the silence.

"I will not stand for awkward behavior from here on out, Brandi. You are an adult. We are both consenting adults. You understand?" He didn't look her way, instead he placed the cigarette between his lips.

"I already made it clear to you what I wanted from the beginning." Bulma pushed her dark hair behind her ear and smiled, taking a hard drag.

"Good, as long as you understand. I don't wish to hurt you...or anyone." He threw in there, sitting instantly upon the outdoor chair, and cranking up the heat.

"Why are you worrying so much?"

"I am not worrying, woman. I wanted to be clear." His dark, angry eyes shifted from the glowing end of his cigarette to her smiling features, "Sometimes women get the wrong idea."

"It is just sex." Bulma flipped her brown hair over her shoulder, re-lighting her snuffed butt.

Vegeta's brows knitted, looking to the ground, "You were drinking, you may not be so open to this idea of 'just sex' tomorrow."

"I am sober. I was coming down from my buzz when we drove here. I was buzzed, not drunk. My buzzed is a little obnoxious at times, especially when I am placed in situations I am not comfortable with." She shrugged, offering him a sexy smile. He liked it a lot. Those lips were perfect and did perfect things.

"I didn't bring her there to make you uncomfortable," Vegeta said, leaning back in his chair and watching her intently.

"I know, we established this," Bulma nodded, gripping the soft material of her robe, letting the nicotine slowly escape her lungs.

"I just wanted you to understand that."

"I have a question," She asked, leaning against the railing and looking down at the sidewalk leading up from the driveway. Vegeta stayed quiet, sucking in a rather large drag, looking at her from her feet up, "Am I the only student you have ever slept with?" She asked, glancing over her shoulder to get a better look at his facial expressions.

Vegeta grinned, meeting her questioning stare, "Yes," He answered truthfully.

"Really?" She smiled, "Interesting."

"Why is that so surprising?" He asked, "I don't target students, if that is what you are thinking. I am a man, that much is true, but I am not a dog. I do find adult women attractive, that cannot be help. I found you attractive from the start." He sniffed, rubbing his chin and placing the cigarette between his lips, "I go for older woman, usually."

"Cougars?" Bulma began to laugh, "Are you serious? Do I seem cougar-ish to you?" Bulma batted her lashes and stroked a hand down her hip, throwing him a sensual look from over her shoulder.

Vegeta didn't smile, but offered her a soft grin instead before chuckling softly, "I just like older women. They appeal to me more than young girls, like you, who think they are adults."

"Excuse me, I am pretty sure I am adult enough for you. Obviously, or you would have never fucked me." She pursed her lips, turning and facing him, allowing the front of her robe to fall open slightly. He could see the soft swells of her breasts.

"Such a mouth," her professor's brows knitted.

"Another question, will you fuck me again?"

Vegeta arched a brow, "Stop," he demanded instantly.

"This is a one time thing, isn't it?" She looked down saddened slightly by it. "I am fine with that, you know. I told you all I wanted was sex."

"This will be the only time that I will allow you to spend the night. I don't usually allow that with my... women." He let out a soft breath, rubbing his lower lip.

"I see, I understand. I usually wouldn't agree to this, but your bed is super comfy." Bulma flicked her cigarette over the ledge and walked to the door. She honestly wondered how many he was seeing right now. That made her nervous. They weren't committed. She shouldn't care.

"So, this will happen again?" Bulma asked, "Because you are good at fucking." she smiled.

Vegeta looked away, flicking his cigarette, "That is up to me, not you."

"Fine, don't answer that." She turned and headed to the sliding door, stepping in and slipping out of the robe, shooting him a sensual glance from over her shoulder.

This woman was definitely a different breed after having sex. She turned into someone more open, more free when naked and engaging in something so intimate. He would have never guessed, nor would he have guessed that he would be taking her home and fucking this young woman in his very bed. Yes, he fucked her. Vegeta didn't plan on stopping these random fucking sessions. There would be nothing good to come from it, but it honestly made his head spin. She made his head spin. The way she felt against him. The way she responded to him was fresh. She was amazing. What would happen with Andrea? He usually fucked one woman at a time. Andrea wouldn't be happy to know their little arrangement wouldn't work out any longer, she would be suspicious if he broke it off now. Vegeta rubbed a hand over his face. He royally screwed himself.

"I need a shower," He mumbled, shutting the door behind him and pulling the shades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for Reading!!  
> -Mallie-3


	8. Chapter 7

**Unmasked**

_Chapter 7_

_Warnings:_ _Adult content! If you are under the age of 18, please turn away!_

_A/N:_ _I should be kicked out of this fandom... I haven't updated in ages...Sorry about that. Don't kill me! Please refer to the bottom for more notes once you are done. It contains important information!_

_Read on! Hope it was worth the wait, if not...I'll try better next time?_

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The sun began to brilliantly streak the sky. The birds were loud, chirping their morning greetings in the early hours of the day. Vegeta pressed the cup of coffee to his lips, enjoying the heated liquid as it coated his mouth. He pulled it away and glanced down for only a second. It was very hot. Steam rose from its jet black contents. Pealing his eyes away from the cup he glanced back toward the black sedan that had been parked at the end of the street since the previous evening. Two men sat within, or so he could tell. It wasn't a familiar vehicle. What sort of person sat all night unless they were looking for someone in particular. He hadn't slept a wink. He left the bed directly after his partner had fallen asleep, soundly that was. He watched from the window, and checked all entrances of his home. Here they were, still camped outside the Miller's home.

He sipped his coffee once more and took notice to more movement within the vehicle. They had turned on their car. The tires began to shift upon the pavement and they did a U-turn in the middle of the street, quickly driving off. All night they had sat, and in the morning before they woke, or so they believed, they were going to be gone.

"Hey..." A drowsy voice sounded behind him.

Vegeta turned to look over his shoulder, raising a brow, "Awake this early? I though you college students slept in until 3 pm or something like that?" He grinned ever so softly before turning to face her with one hand in the pocket of his pajama pants.

Bulma's eyes shifted over his form, taking note that his torso, deliciously chiseled. The way it had felt during her exploration was hard to shake from her thoughts, especially once he was now standing before her in all his glory. Biting her lip, she looked away and roughly massaged a hand through her bed head and pulled his massive house coat closer to her nude body.

"Not this college girl," She chuckled and sucked in a breath, running a hand nervously through her hair a second time. How pathetic did she just sound? Oh god, the morning after felt absolutely awkward, especially now that her liquid courage had completely worn off.

"There is a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen. Creamer and sugar are available if you take it." He nodded his head and pointed in the direction of the kitchen.

"Ok," She nodded and turned, looking into the kitchen. Her eyes skimmed the appliances for the coffee pot. She paused briefly and glanced over her shoulder, noticing he had not moved from the window. He was still intently staring. Her brows were drawn tightly together and then she decided to speak, "Are you gonna stand there and look out the window all day? Please don't tell me you are _**that**_ neighbor?" She offered him a rare smile.

"I am not the neighborhood watch, girl. Go get your coffee. I'll be there in a moment." He said gruffly.

Bulma's smile faded and without a response she made her way to the kitchen. She couldn't help but feel this cold behavior was in response of this odd thing known as 'the morning after'. On the way her eyes scanned his home. It was really a nice family home. The only thing missing was a wife, a couple kids, and a dog named 'Spot'. She walked past beautifully crafted end tables. The only item upon one was a vase and a home telephone, which wasn't even plugged in. Her brows knitted only a brief moment before shifting her eyes around the his living room. Now that she thought of it, where were any pictures? Did this guy even have a life?

Bulma titled her head to the side and quickened her pace toward the kitchen. She made herself a cup of coffee and turned to lean against the counter top. This guy absolutely had nothing in his house except some furniture, which were all uniform colors. Black, gray with the occasional wooden end tables. He was a man, that much she understood, but even she had pictures of her and Lorelei. Not to mention the plethora of photos that covered the wall of Stephanie's side of the dorm, which were mostly of them. This man had the essentials in his place and that was about it. She slipped over to the refrigerator and opened it a crack, taking a look at the few items in which the huge appliance held.

"When did you want me to take you back?" Vegeta rounded the corner with the coffee mug pressed to his lips tightly. He paused and swallowed, noticing she had quickly shut his fridge door and backed away. She was acting like a child who had been caught doing something that wasn't right. Though, who wouldn't when they first came to a home they weren't accustom too, especially being her professor.

"Um, well I wasn't really sure. I got up and kinda wanted to enjoy my coffee for a while, you know, take this little situation of ours? Though, I understand if you want to kick me out. I have been here," She motioned to his home with her mug still in hand, " **all** night... with you. I am sure you want your space soon. I need to get into some different clothing, as well." Her hip pressed against the counter top once again as she looked into the mug, hoping he didn't notice her jumpy behavior. Her blue gaze slipped lower to her frumpy attire, which had been wrinkled from the sport the previous evening.

Honestly, Bulma felt stupid. She wasn't doing anything wrong? Yes, she was snooping just a bit, but it wasn't like she was going through his underwear drawer. She licked her teeth, swiping her thumb across the bottom lip, and raising her eyes to meet his intense stare.

"I have a few items to grade today," He paused, pulling out his vibrating phone from his pajama bottoms and glanced at the screen. It was Andrea. She had been trying to contact him since the night prior, but for obvious reasons he wasn't able to call her back. She had been persistently calling him all morning. He wouldn't be able to ignore her for long.

Bulma inhaled slowly and nodded, noticing him stiffen as he thrust the phone back into his pocket after glancing at who it was that was calling him this early in the morning.

"Let me guess, _your Dean_?" Bulma bit her cheek and looked to the ground, trying to hold back a grin after thinking about how uncomfortable she had made the other woman.

"Yes, and she isn't ' _my Dean_ '." He rolled his shoulders and set the coffee mug upon the counter top, approaching her slowly.

Bulma straightened and met eyes with him, holding the coffee mug a little closer to her body as he stopped directly in front of her, nearly brushing his body with hers. She looked up at his face, quickly taking in his features. His hands gripped the edge of the counter on either side of the woman before him. He leaned in, nearly brushing lips with her and sucked in a breath quickly. Without a moment to think he leaned in and brushed his nose to the soft flesh of her neck, lifting his hand and sweeping it through her brunette locks.

"You smell good," He breathed, placing a soft kiss to her neck. Bulma shuddered, nearly becoming a pile of jelly at his feet. Shifting herself upon the balls of her feet, the young woman turned her head away from him, biting her lower lip, unable to hide a soft grin.

"Brandi," He spoke softly, just above a whisper.

"What?" Bulma responded quicker than she would have liked. There was a moment of silence. He was now looking upon her soft features, brushing his rough thumb pad across her cheek and glancing up at her hair line and slowly back down, taking in her youthful features. His fingers trailed higher, brushing through her hair before gripping her chin with his fingers rather tight. His endless dark gaze captured hers, drawing her in once again.

"Are you jealous?" he finally spoke, alarming her.

Bulma shoved him off, crossing her arms over her chest. At once, annoyed by the silly insinuation, grunted at his question. Her lips pursed and her eyes rolled, "You really are pathetic," Her guard was back up. Wiping her lips with her fingers ever so softly, gripping her coffee mug tighter, only to down it and walk it to the sink, disposing of the remaining droplets and rinsing it out, "How could I be jealous of _that?_ "

_What? She only had the body of a damned goddess... No biggie! Not at all threatening... Did she forget to mention she was actually gorgeous too? Oh no, not at all threatening..._

"So," Bulma licked her lips, "I don't mean to make this anymore awkward than it already is... but, yes, you were pretty clear last night, right? You don't want anything out of this," She had a hard time lifting her eyes to meet his, finding her cheeks were ablaze, "And... neither do I."

Vegeta grunted softly, running a hand through his hair, "Look, I am not the one making this complicated. I was merely asking. You were the one who asked if it was her. Not to mention your face... No one invited you to glance in the direction of my phone screen. You invited yourself, so it seems."

Bulma only offered him a soft smile, closing her semi-open mouth and licking her teeth. Sucking a soft breath through her nose, she turned looking around as if confused by where she was currently located in his home, "Yeah, you are right." She nodded, "Um, let me grab my things." She almost spoke under her breath.

Slipping across the carpet she moved in the direction of the hallway toward his bedroom. Once in, she leaned over and gripped all of her items, running her hands over the soft material of the house coat nervously. Why was she so angry? Honestly, she had never felt this way about any guy. Not even a person for that matter, no matter what sex they were. She didn't try for anyone, not friends of lovers for that matter, not that she had many lovers. She was actually reacting negatively toward this guy. Of course it didn't help that from the very beginning she was drawn to him. He was like that addictive drug that she refused to throw away. She loved how terrible he was. She loved the way he looked, walked, talked, and...

A warm hand gripped her upper arm, yanking her back. All her items dropped to the floor. Bulma gasped and just as she did, his mouth was on hers. In one stumbling motion, Bulma was on her back upon his bed. His hand shifted across her naked thigh, roaming over the soft flesh and directly for her naked center.

Vegeta opened his mouth and growled upon her lips, dipping his fingers into her heated core. Bulma gasped, "If I remember correctly," He spoke breathlessly as he moved himself between her scissoring thighs, reaching with his other hand to roughly shrug his pajama pants from his flexing hips, but failed as they were tied to tight, "I said that this would be _ **my**_ terms, woman, not yours." Looking between them, both his hand captured her thighs and forced them apart, allowing him to get an eye full of her swollen nether lips, parted and glistening with need. His erection was already ready for penetration, pressing tightly against his soft material of his pajama band. Giving up on the tie, Vegeta slipped a hand toward the front of his pants and pulled free his blood, engorged sex from the hole of his boxers. Grunting, he rubbed the reddened tip against her entrance, further building up the delicious temptation which was thick in the air already.

"You did, and I agreed to them, but we must not complicate the situation by being around one another any longer than we need...to...," She gasped, tossing her head to the side, lifting her soft hand up to dip her fingers between her lips, trying to silence her delirious cries of pleasure.

With one sweeping thrust, he was settled deliciously within her griding tightly, causing her to gasp with each small movement, "God, you are killing me," Bulma muttered breathlessly.

"Yes, our arrangement is to 'fuck'. What are we currently doing, woman?" He asked against her ear, gathering her up against him. Her wetness was coating the front of his pajama bottoms, urging him on for he knew she was loving every moment of him being inside of her. She didn't speak, only opened her mouth to moan and closed those luminous eyes of hers. Gripping her chin once again, Vegeta grunted, thrusting hard into her body and slowly pulled back, "What are we doing?" His index finger bit into the side of her jaw.

"Hn,...fucking," She whispered toward the ceiling, reaching up to pull open her house coat, baring her peaking breasts to the air and inviting him to have a taste, which he gladly did. Within a blink of an eye he cradled her body, withdrawing in the process and flipped her onto her stomach. Popping up her hips for better access and gripping her below her chin, Vegeta nipped her earlobe before entering her once again... planning on spending the rest of their morning in bed.

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oOoOoOo

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Steph leaned in toward her computer screen, deleting yet another paragraph from her paper. Waiting til the last minute to do a ten page paper on...

_What was it again?_

Anyway, waiting til the last minute had not benefited her in the slightest. She had been pulling things out of her ass, if she was lucky she would receive a 'C', or so she hoped? Already it was late afternoon and she hasn't heard a word from Brandi. To be completely honest it had her worried, and Stephanie wasn't the type of friend to worry too much, especially when it came to her friend Brandi. Brandi was the type to be in early, not stay out all evening. What if she was right about this Professor guy? What if he was a loony tune? Steph stopped typing and began to bite her fake nails and completely forgot about the tiny cursor blinking on her word document.

The door opened slowly and in slipped her friend, her bad slung over her shoulder. Her hair was wet and hung to her shoulder blades. No trace of last nights makeup upon her face. She was squeaky clean and still in the clothes from the night before. Shifting upon her chair, which sat directly in front of their mini desk they had forced to fit in their dorm, Steph raised a blond brow and crossed her arms over her chest.

Brandi had yet to make eye contact. Instead she turned her back to her and proceeded to unpack her items, putting them away. Every so often Brandi would run her hands through her wet tendrils and slightly glance over her shoulder as if she could feel the heat from her friend's gaze upon her back. When clearing her throat hadn't worked for Steph, she decided to sigh and tilt her head to the side. When that didn't work, knowing full well that Brandi was ignoring her because of her guilty conscience, she leaned forward and grinned from ear to ear.

"Well, hello, friend of mine!" She nearly shouted at her, causing the brunette to jump in place and finally shoot a surprised glance over her shoulder at her.

"Jesus, Steph, what the hell?" Bulma lifted a hand and shook her head, "Hi!" she spoke dramatically, before continuing with her small task.

"Now, I am glad to see you are still alive and not picturing you somewhere in a ditch... dead," Bulma smiled softly at this, "I have to ask you one thing...," Steph said softly, putting her hands together and closing her eyes, offering a serious look afterwards.

"... and that is?" Bulma raised a brow, turning and sitting her rear end at the edge of her bed.

"How big...is his dick?" She began to snort and chuckle at the same time, opening her eyes wide as the look of pure horror stuck across Bulma's face.

"I am not having this conversation with you, absolutely not," Bulma pointed a finger, not being able to help a soft blush forming across her cheeks, which were now burning as she held back a grin.

"Oh come on," Stephanie whined softly, forcing herself up and gliding across the room to bounce herself upon Bulma's bed, "Seriously, this paper is killing my brain, I need some entertainment or I will croak." Placing a hand to her chest and offering up a dramatic look for good measure.

Bulma sighed softly and ran a hand nervously through her hair, feeling awkward to share something so private with her friend. She had never been so blatantly honest when it came to her sex life, yet Steph still seemed to think she had every right to be involved. Just as involved as she figured Bulma should be in the happenings of her nether region...

"So, did you? You had to have seen something, dear god! I swear to god if you tell me you spent all night there, watched the 'Golden Girls', drinking hot chocolate, and cuddled without once playing with his manly parts, I will disown you as a freakin' friend," Steph pointed a finger.

"Oh my god, no we didn't do any...any of those things. We...you know?"

"Oh my god, Brandi, why are you such a baby, you banged, right?"

"Fuck, dude, yeah, we screwed. It was the best sex I ever had in my life. Not that I had a lot, but I am pretty aware that if he could make me..." Bulma bounced her head to emphasize.

"Come?" Steph blurted the word as if they were play charades. Bulma's eyes narrowed, but then she chuckled.

"Yes, it was amazing."

Steph then got super quiet, biting her lower lip, "Damn, is it going to be weird? He is your professor."

Bulma's mouth dropped open, "Oh my gosh, really? You are thinking about this now? After everything I have told you about the guy...now you decide to think rationally, really?" She placed her hands over her face and laughed hysterically.

"What?" Steph shrugged her shoulders.

"I want to punch you," Bulma said softly.

Stephanie only laughed, "No, it is alright, just as long as...you know..."

"Well, it isn't going to be anything. We have already established...that." Bulma said softly, hesitating in the process.

"Well, that is always good. An uncomplicated fuck, right? That is honestly how I like it."

"Really? Is that what it is about with this one guy I met the other day?"

"What guy?" Stephanie blinked and blankly stared at Bulma, and the sad part was it was completely genuine.

"Are you serious?" Bulma's brow knitted.

"Oh, that guy... Don? No, I am done with him. I am on to bigger and better things, baby, if you know what I mean."

"My god, why am I friends with you?" She asked herself, not wanting one little reply from her friend.

"Because you love me, and to be completely honest...Brandi, I think I like you better when you have gotten laid. You seem more chipper. Keep banging the teacher, girl. I think it might do your little female part some good." Bulma shoved her blond friend allowing a soft laugh to escape. She honestly hoped she was right about this. Yes, it was her professor, but he even said himself he didn't want a negative reaction due to their arrangement. She would do her best to pretend that the man teaching her wasn't the man she was currently fucking...

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The weekend went by faster than she imagined. She didn't have mister Ouji's number, nor did he attempt to e-mail her for obvious reasons. Using a schools e-mail services to contact a student for sexual favors would get him kicked out of that particular institution in the blink of an eye.

Silly, she felt silly for even thinking he would give her his number.

Would he?

Was it bad that she wanted it? Was it bad that she wanted him?

Bulma clutched her book bag strap closer to her shoulder, feeling the perspiration gather in her palms. It had been a few days since she had last seen him. He had dropped her off at her dorm, no kiss, no promises. It was a simple good-bye and she rushed in without small talk or questions as to 'when they would see one another next'. Knowing her luck it would be, 'in class'. They had said their _proper_ good-byes the hours before when he had taken her again in bed and fucked her good and proper in the shower. Her legs trembled softly remembering the screaming climaxes. Rolling her eyes, Bulma brushed her loose tendrils from her eyes, stepping into the classroom.

She was early. Yamcha sat where he usually did and she rounded the desks in order to place herself in front of him. Without a proper greeting, Yamcha took charge of the situation and leaned in, yanking a dark lock of hair.

Bulma yipped, reaching behind her head and smoothing the hair down. Craning her neck, she glared back at him. Pursing her lips, her brow arched.

"Hi to you too," Yamcha whispered, "did you complete the homework?"

Her heart sank, "What homework?"

"The one he assigned via e-mail on Sunday night. Apparently we were to watch this video he posted and answer the questions he added below it in a document. From the look on your face I am guessing you had no clue."

"Fuck," Bulma muttered to herself, slowly deciding to zip up her book back, trying to decide if she wanted to skip the class or risk being humiliated, "I think I am going to go. I don't want to have to...,"

Yamcha grinned from ear to ear because in came Mr. Ouji, whose eyes scanned the small class volume, landing on her form for a brief moment.

_Damn..._

There was no way in hell she was getting out of this class unnoticed. He would surely ask why she was leaving and humiliate her further. What could she come up with? What is a good excuse? She was doing the heap of homework already assigned, shit, that wasn't good enough. She didn't have to watch 'Dancing With the Stars' the other night... She definitely had time to check her e-mail.

_I am screwed... Oh well..._

Her professor turned on his computer, started the projector and powered up his lecture for that current day. In big bold letters upon the screen it wrote...

**Please pass your completed homework to the front of the class.**

_Fuck..._

"Your in big trouble now, Brandi." Yamcha chuckled, poking her in the back. The strong urge to turn around and smack the smug look off his face was almost unbearable.

Everyone continued to pass their printed papers to the front. The silence was killing her, not to mention the hot gaze of her professor was nearly singeing off her eyebrows. She hadn't once looked up to meet his eyes. Uncomplicated, huh? Was she reading into this? No...yes.. maybe? She wasn't sure. Slowly lifting her gaze, she noticed he wasn't looking at her, or anywhere around her. Could anyone say anxiety? He was quickly gathering the papers, sifting through them and questioning anyone he felt the need to. Either that or he would shake his head or click his tongue.

"Miss. Williams," He had finally stopped before her row, sifting through their god-forsaken-pile and lifted those questioning eyes of his.

"Yes, Mr. Ouji?" Bulma cleared her throat and then responded.

"Why isn't yours in this pile?"

"I wasn't feeling well yesterday. I didn't get a chance to view it. Sorry," She shrugged, and then he grinned, offering up a questionable look before collecting the last of the papers and turning back to the cheap table placed at the front of the hall.

"I see," he sifted through his work bag, pulling free a handful of graded papers, "I have a few of your previous assignment graded. I was rather busy this weekend and wasn't able to get through all of them. Wednesday I should have everything graded, no questions asked, not even a silly 'sickness' will stop me, I sure you." Bulma frowned, and with that particular comment many of her fellow classmates glanced up at her with sympathy. Brushing it off, Bulma prepared herself for her graded papers. She was surprisingly pleased. A few snide commented here and there, but for the most part she got the grade she deserved, or figured she would get for most.

Mr. Ouji began his lecture, but Bulma decided to take the time to tune him out. She studied his handwriting, intrigued by the way it looked. It was handled with care, for he seemed like the kind of man who took pride in his accomplishments and work. Flipping one piece of paper over, she read to the bottom of her own work, skimming for any red ink to be found. At the very lower hand corner of the paper a ten digit number was written. Below that the message wrote, 'respond within 24'. Her brows knitted. Was this his way of asking her to provide him her number?

_Interesting..._

"What is that?" Yamcha asked, leaning over her shoulder.

She flipped it back over and shrugged, "Nothing, I am just happy to see my work has paid off. No more under achieving in this class." Bulma spoke softly, waiting to feel her friend's body heat recede before flipping out her phone and punching in the digits to his number.

He needed a code name, she supposed. She didn't want Steph to get a hold of her phone and see his name pop up. There was no telling what would happen after that. Knowing her friend she would take obscene photos of her own … Bulma shuddered and shook her head, clearing her mind of those terrible thoughts.

She typed in , "Weekend". She supposed that was more obvious, but why would she put him name in? Why did it feel so odd? She backspaced and retyped, "Ouji". Once the contact was added, Bulma went a tad further. She was going to test hers and his limits. Pulling up the text chat, Bulma typed in a text and quickly sent it, glancing up to watch him as he moved across the floor, currently too busy to notice anything else but the lecture on the projection screen.

**: U have requested I have delivered...**

Almost like clock work, Mr. Ouji paused in mid-conversation and pulled his screen slightly from his pocket. He almost froze when he realized who had responded to him. She knew he was refusing to look in her direction. His response was to not respond at all, but only continued his lecture. Bulma grinned, resting her chin upon her palm, carefully pulling her phone free once again.

**: R U bothered by this?**

He cleared his throat as his phone vibrated in his pants, no one but Bulma could read it. He continued on, ignoring the incessant vibrations in his pocket. Once he was done with the lecture he turned and passed by his desk, pulling free a stack of papers. Thankfully she was listening this period, well in a way. Did obnoxiously staring at his pocket count? She supposed not, but she did listen most of the time. It was those god-forsaken pop quizzes he has a chubby for. Mr. Ouji quickly distributed them and explained the rules. They were to finish the quiz, turn them in and only once everyone was done, was the class allowed to be dismissed.

Bulma skimmed over the questions quickly, glancing up once and a while to see if she would witness him pull free his phone. He didn't. Instead he was on the computers, looking through his e-mails, no doubt. Bulma began to bite her lower lip and shift in her chair. Glancing back down at her ten question multiple choice quiz, she quickly finished to the best of her ability before awaiting for more than one student to get up, allowing her to merge with the group and turn it in. This was so he couldn't single her out. That was when she noticed him. He was on his phone. Was his thumbs moving? Yep, he was texting. Was he responding? Her cheeks grew heated. Damn, she felt like a little girl with a crush, butterflies and all. Trying not to throw her quiz at the pile, Bulma tried not to gather too much attention. She slipped it down and as she turned a vibration alerted in her pocket. Nearly jumping, she had to coax herself down a little bit. She knew exactly who was texting her. Rounding her desk, Bulma plopped down.

She clutched her fingers tightly to her palms, glancing up to watch him. He had slipped his phone back into his pocket and guided his attention back to the finished papers. Should she look now? She was dying to look know.

_Fuck it..._

She carefully slipped her phone, once again, from her pocket and pressed a button to illuminate the screen. Her eyes slipped over the text...causing her cheeks to burn.

: **Texting in my class, are you? I think I need to teach you a lesson, yes? Think back to my office? A few weeks back? Ring a bell, Williams?**

Her blue eyes slipped up. Her blue orbs met the dark gaze of her professor. He held her surpised stare for a few moments before standing up and putting the ungraded pop quizzes back into his brief case.

"Prepare for Wednesday's lecture. Please check your e-mail's daily, have a good night. You are dismissed." With that he waved his hand and waited for everyone to leave.

"That was an easy quiz, huh?" Yamcha chuckled, "Hey, what are you doing after this?"

"Oh, I have to work tonight, do you?"

"No, not tonight. I had Bill take my shift. Too much homework this week. Want to grab a bite before your shift?" He asked, pointing his thumb over his shoulder and offering her his goofy grin.

"No, I am not hungry. Rain check? Plus, I think I had enough of you for one day," She jested, trying not to be too nice to the weirdo.

"Ahh, you're mean. Alright then, want a ride at least?" He rubbing a hand over his hair, standing up and collected his bag.

"No, I think I am good. I have to stay and study a bit, not to mention I have to ask Mr. Ouji about one of my grades." Bulma fibbed, biting her lips and slipping her folders and books into her bag.

"Oh really, which one?" He pressed.

Bulma shook her head, fumbling nervously with her zipper.

_Damn, just go away..._

"Uh...," The brunette stumbled over her words.

"Quit dawdling, flirt on your own time. I have to lock up this class before I can go to my next...so..." Mr. Ouji waved his hand before slipping it back into his pocket, intensely watching the duo.

"Sorry, Sir," Yamcha responded coldly, glaring at the teacher with this odd fire in his eyes.

"I''ll text you later, ok?" Bulma offered, which Yamcha offered her a soft smile and nodded before slipping from the room without another word.

Bulma sat for a moment before standing. By that time, Mr. Ouji was already walking toward the door. He had it closed and locked, pulling down the blinds to hide those who were still inside from passer byes.

"So, what are my rules, Miss. Williams?" He rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet, glaring over his shoulder at the young woman watching his every move.

"For what, Professor." Bulma couldn't help but notice the excitement in his eyes.

"Phones," He merely responded, crossing his arms over his muscled chest.

"Well, their use is prohibited, sir."

"Correct," his dark brows rose with surprise, "Yet you decide to use one even though I have stressed these rules," He cocked his head to the side, moving closer to her isle.

Bulma stepped down toward him, feeling a sudden burst of courage not to mention...other things happening to her body, which were contained in her loins.

"Well, I suppose...I suppose then I need a punishment?" her blue eyes lifted as he stood before him with her lips slightly parted as if she was daring him to kiss her. She was growing bold with him, but who wouldn't after being sexually involved with someone?

Vegeta's adams apple bobbed as he swallowed, glaring down into her beautiful eyes, "This weekend, I will meet you at the corner of Wheeler and Second. As for your punishment, meet me in my office tomorrow after you last class." He leaned in, gripping her by the chin, leaning in to brush his lips across her cheek before releasing her and stalking to his desk. He collected his briefcase and stride toward the door. He opened the blinds, unlocked the door and propped it open, allowing her to exit with him.

"Have a good-night, Miss. Williams." He motioned for her to leave. She didn't hesitant. Stepping down the stairs, Bulma slipped from the room, feeling her lungs finally allow oxygen to penetrate after being put on the spot. It was exhilarating. Her body was aflame, her head was clouded, and her heart was thumping tremendously in her chest... She felt...human...normal...

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_Thank you for waiting so long for my updates. This is one story that has been eating at my brain as of late._

_Again, thank you for taking the time to read... it has been far too long!_

_-Mallie_


	9. Chapter 8

_**Unmasked** _

_Chapter 8_

_Warnings:_ _Adult Content, Language_

_A/N:_ _Hello! Long time no update, right? I'm really sorry about that! Let's just say I have been super busy and literally had no time at all to write. Though, I am going to be free now. So, I plan on updating a few of my stories, one being Silent Night and the other Unconventional Love. If you have any questions in the future if I fall off the face of the earth, just shoot me a message. I really love hearing from you guys. Again, I am so sorry and I hope you enjoy! xo_

_PS... a wonderful fanart was made for this story. If you are interested in seeing it, go to Tumblr and follow nala1588. :)_

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_Meet me in my office tomorrow after your class…_

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Gripping her book bag, Bulma hulled it up and over her shoulder as she made her way through a mob of students and into the psychology building, rushing up two full flights of stairs until she finally reached the hallway she was seeking. Professor Ouji's office number was…

Her eyes carefully scanned the face of each door, replaying a previous mental image of her first visit. Those visits obviously lead to the complicated relationship she was currently in. Her hands tightened on the rough material of her backpack straps, feeling butterflies beginning their trapeze act within her stomach.

Taking a deep breath, she paused outside of his door.

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_Dr. Vegeta Ouji_

_._

Licking her lips, Bulma straightened her stance and prepared to knock. Her thoughts began to run wild as she looked from left to right, watching as a different individual passed by her every so often, disappearing into their own offices. Who was she kidding; no one honestly cared who she was. Students visited their professors all the time, and no one batted an eye. She needed to calm down. Of course, that was easier said than done with a guilty conscious.

Finally, she knocked. The milestone had been reached. She rolled her eyes at her childish behavior, but frowned when there was no response. Maybe she didn't knock loud enough? Knocking a second time, Bulma paused to listen, but there was still no reply. Curious, as he would have definitely said something if he was inside. Boldness and impatience got the better of her, leading to her decision to open the door and peek in. She gripped the brass knob and twisted. Disappointed, Bulma found it was locked.

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_Why would he ask me to come to his office when he wasn't going to be here? This had better not be another one of his sick jokes._

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Her own thoughts got the better of her and she glanced around, acting completely oblivious. He was still nowhere to be seen. Was he running late? Maybe he had to help another student. She grumbled at the thought. He didn't help anyone, because he was just that kind of asshole. Bulma huffed under her breath, crossing her arms over her chest. Just when she was about to give up and text him something nasty about leaving her standing like an idiot outside of his office, someone cleared their throat.

The young college student turned abruptly on her heel, glancing in the direction of the sound. Her blue eyes dilated and in her view was a small woman looking her over carefully with a pile of papers clasped to her chest.

"Can I help you?" The blonde woman asked kindly, offering a smile.

"Oh," Bulma bit her lower lip, and pointed her thumb toward Professor Ouji's door. With an unsure grin plastered on her face, Bulma opened her lips to speak, but completely fumbled over her words, "Sorry, I was looking for Professor Ouji? I was to meet him—erm—during this time?" Her voice raised one octave, questioning even her own words.

The woman's green eyes shifted toward Professor Ouji's door, and slowly nodded, "I see, well that is interesting. He actually was just called to a meeting with the dean of our department. I am sure if you e-mail him, he will get back to you." She offered a reassuring smile while nodding.

"Oh," Bulma whispered, narrowing her eyes as she looked back at the letters etched in his name plate, "Thank you, I will do that." The brunette instantly spoke, turning on her heel and rushing from the hallway and down the flights of stairs from which she came.

She could hear the hypnotizing rhythm of her heart pounding in her chest and just as that started her head began swimming with unwanted thoughts and images.

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_What is wrong with you? Don't dwell on it…_

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The weight of her backpack seemed to double, or was it because her knees felt weak? Knitting her brows as she focused on the double doors before her, Bulma closed her eyes for a deep breath as a location popped in her mind. All she knew was she had to get as far away from campus as possible.

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_Dwelling on it, definitely dwelling on – oh god…_

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What if they were seriously fucking? What if she was just not enough and he decided he needed to have his cake and eat it too? Bulma felt her brain sizzling with another wave of unwanted ideas and images, but quickly apprehended them and pushed it from her mind.

"Brandi—Bulma," She acknowledged only once under her breath, running a hand through her windblown hair, "It was just sex. You both agreed to it, so why are you so damned surprised? It isn't a damn commitment!" She threw up her hands, glancing up as the bus stop as it was just yards away.

"Fuck me," she breathed raggedly through her nose, "Damn, I need to stop smoking." Her eyes rolled, but as they did a light bulb ignited in her brain, "Right!"

Tossing the hunk of junk back over her shoulder, she unzipped her bag and began to sift through many of the unwanted items she currently held within. At first glance one might even think she was a kleptomaniac, or possibly a traveling hoarder. The square box, which had nearly been smashed by all her obnoxiously heavy books, was near the bottom. Pulling it free, as well as keeping an eye at the group congregating around the bus stop, she placed the cigarette filter between her lips and lit it. She took the longest drag of her life, wanting nothing more than to fall back and lay there for a while. If she did than maybe she would forget that he existed, and just maybe she could forgive herself for complicating the hell out of her already complicated life.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," She whispered, zipping up her bag and resuming her trek to the bus stop.

The tip of her cigarette glowed with each large drag, allowing the smoke to permeate around her. She felt buzzed, walking and smoking as fast as she was. Just as she took the last drag, Bulma flicked the glowing butt upon the asphalt; the campus bus slowly came to a screeching halt at the bus stop. All the students rushed on, filling the bus to the brim.

"Are you serious?" The brunette pulled out her phone to check the time. The bus was definitely earlier than expected. Running, which was something she just didn't do, Bulma breathed heavily through her mouth as she tried desperately to wave down the bus before it left. A cloud of black smoke bled into the air and with a rickety start it drove off without her.

"Great!" Her hands flew in the air, immediately descending to her knees so she could catch her breath, "Damn, I seriously need to stop smoking." The young woman whispered, cursing her bad habit.

Finally, she stood to full height, pulling out her phone once again to see when the next bus would make its round to her current location. Of course, it wasn't due to arrive anytime soon. She needed a bus, car, bike, scooter, or anything to get the hell out of there. Shit, she would piggy back out if that was her only option. Turning in a circle, Bulma decided to continue to the street. The dorms weren't that far away. Maybe the walk would do her some good. This would give her time to clear her mind; maybe stop at _The Bean_ on the way to grab something hot to drink. Coffee was always nice. Or maybe if she turned back now and go back to the psychology department. They may very well have one of the old school machinery to help her out, by providing her with some electroconvulsive therapy, so she could forget all the stupid decisions she had made.

Bulma quietly made her way down the busy street, passing by the stadium. The intersections were busy during this time; many people commuted from out of town and were determined to get home. The noise from the park, just outside of the stadium, was a breeding ground for Greek row. They were just down the block, and the community decided Frisbee golf would attract towns people and kids to this area; great area. She side glanced in the direction of the loud noise, placing another cigarette between her lips. Cupping her hand around the tip, she lit it and paused near a park bench, watching as a group of fit frat boys cavorted around the field.

"Brandi?" an inquisitive voice called from the street behind her.

Bulma slowly turned; arms crossed over her chest and raised a brow. The sedan parked near the curb held the one man she really didn't want to see at the moment, well, one of the men she didn't want to see at this current moment. Narrowing her blue eyes and taking another drag she tilted her head.

"Hello Yamcha, your super human stalker skills are rather impressive. How did you find me? Was it a homing device?" She muttered sarcastically, exhaling the thick, white smoke through her nostrils.

"Again with the stalker shit, really? I was on my way to your dorms, thought I would see if you wanted to grab something to eat. I didn't expect to see you—" His eyes shifted toward the field of college boys, taking advantage of the warm front that had made its way to their town.

"No, I have a lot to do," She said quickly, taking another drag and turning back to face the field.

"Yeah, clearly," he said softly, following her line of vision and pursing his lips. Yamcha blinked a few times and shook his head, deciding it was best that he just didn't go there with her at this moment, "Well, I guess I will see you later. Don't forget the—"

Bulma turned on her heel and waltz over to Yamcha's sedan, opened the door and slipped in, "Let's go," She said calmly, dropping her book bag on the car floor.

"Wait, what?" he gripped his shifter.

"My god, let's go!" She repeated, waving her hands.

"You're bipolar or something, I swear." With that he shifted to drive and began to slowly pull away from the curb.

"I want lunch. Are you paying?" Her blue eyes flickered with amusement.

"Uh, yeah, sure," He shrugged, "Where did you want to go?"

"I thought you had this planned out? You were the one with the food idea." She argued.

"Why are you women always so damn indecisive with your food?"

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Bulma dipped the last sushi roll in a small bowl of soy sauce and placed it between her lips, trying not to look like a squirrel hording nuts.

"I didn't think you would be able to do it," Yamcha said, crossing his arms over his chest as a look of disgust washed over his features. She had devoured three rolls of sushi like it was nothing, along with a bowl of miso soup. What were left from this massacre were three empty plates, a bowl, and three empty glasses of water.

Bulma swallowed, dabbing her lips with her napkin, "I don't screw around when it comes to Sushi, Yamcha." The brunette smiled brightly, something that was a rare sight to behold.

Yamcha kept his arms crossed over his chest, watching her pull her wallet free. Her tongue darted across her lower lip, sifting through the cards, and quickly pulling out a MasterCard and glancing around the small restaurant to find their waitress.

"What are you doing?" he extended a hand.

"Grabbing the bill," She said, meeting eyes with the waitress texting behind the counter.

"I told you I got it, don't worry."

"No, I got it." Bulma smiled, "Thank you for taking me to get food. It was a good idea."

"Wow, you are most definitely one of those 'hangry' types, aren't you?" Yamcha's eyes knitted as a grin formed on his lips.

Bulma's blue eyes narrowed, "I'm in a good mood, don't push it."

"Fine," He held up his hands, and looked away.

When the waitress came with their check, Yamcha extended a hand and grabbed the flimsy piece of paper before Bulma could get her hands on it.

"Hey," Bulma quickly objected.

"Brandi, I said I got it." He shook his head, offering his own card to the waitress who quickly took it away, "I hope it made you feel better."

Bulma crossed her arms over her own chest and glared, "What do you mean by that?"

A recipe was brought back to the table. Yamcha leaned over, gripping the pen and quickly scribbling a signature, "Uh," He shrugged, lifting his eyes from the table to meet her intense stare, "You were acting more sulky than usual. I could tell someone shit in your Wheaties."

Her lips dropped open slightly, as she fell back dramatically against her chair, "No," Bulma's head shook.

Yamcha glanced to one said and nodded, "Um, yes."

"I'm—" Bulma paused, "I'm always like that." That moment those words left her mouth, she instantly regretted saying them.

Yamcha grinned from ear to ear.

"Shut up," Bulma whispered, hugging her arms tighter to her chest.

He began to chuckle, "Hey, we all have bad days. It happens. If you want to talk about it, I am always here to listen."

Bulma's eyebrows knitted, "No thank-you. I think I will pass."

The dark haired man before her stood and stretched. He picked up his lunch and glanced down at her shrugging, "The offer is always on the table."

Standing and grabbing her wallet, Bulma pushed in her chair and moved toward the exit, not acknowledging this 'offer' he so 'generously' laid out on the table. It didn't bother him.

Bulma stood by his car, waiting for him to unlock it. She pulled her phone free, hoping to see a text or acknowledgement from the mishap earlier, thought she was disappointed. How could he seriously forget about her? She pushed a button, illuminating her screen. Nothing had come in, only a few e-mail alerts.

"How do you feel about sleeping with two women at the same time?" Bulma said softly, pulling the door open as it unlocked.

Yamcha paused, watching her drop into her seat. He stood for a few moments outside of his car, tapping his fingertips upon the painted aluminum of his car. His dark eyes shifted back and forth before he slipped within and closed his door. He side glanced in her direction, raising a brow, "Why?"

"Oh, I am just curious." Bulma shrugged, "I mean, like a friends with benefits type of thing."

Yamcha sucked in a breath and thought long and hard, "Well, if it was a friends with benefits type of relationship, I guess it would be easier for me to, yeah, especially if the opportunity arose. I mean, if she was hot, how could you say no?"

Bulma's brows knitted as she nodded, "Men as such pigs."

"Oh, well I mean if we were in a relationship—I mean, if I was in a relationship with another girl," He slid his hand through his hair, grinning something terrible and looked away, "Not that I meant if we were dating," and then he shut his mouth, because it was that moment that they finally locked eyes and she gave him 'the look' that he knew he sounded like a complete and utter idiot.

"If I was with a girl, and we had established a relationship I wouldn't look for something else. That is me, though. It depends on what guy you ask. The men that you describe as 'pig-ish' would do that, yes." He finally explained himself.

"Yes, an established relationship. So, should someone ex—expect another to commit when they are," She paused, fumbling with her wallet, "just having sex?"

"Who are you 'just having sex' with?" He asked, looking her over.

"That is none of your business," Bulma pointed a finger at him.

Pursing his lips tightly, Yamcha glared at the wheel and decided not to pry anymore, "Hey, you brought it up. If you don't want to talk about it that is cool too."

Bulma's face relaxed, leaning back against her seat and began to buckle her seat belt, "Thanks for lunch."

"You're welcome." He nodded turning on his car and then driving away.

…

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.

..

…

Lying on her bed, Bulma pulled her phone free once again. She had been trying to study for an exam scheduled for Friday, and of course with all that was on her mind she wasn't able to concentrate. She flipped through the pages of class notes, trying to remember all the terminology presented. Of course, it was no use. She just couldn't concentrate. Rolling to her back, Bulma placed a hand over her eyes and took a few deep breaths to settle her thoughts.

Her dorm room door clicked shut. Her ear picked up the soft footing of the person who had entered. They didn't say anything, which made her nervous. Refusing to open her eyes, Bulma merely listened.

"Stephanie?" She called softly, rolling to her side.

Bulma's fingers began to slip from her cheeks and nose, dropping to her side. Finally building the courage to sit up, she lifted her upper half and opened her eyes. Glancing around her small double bed dorm room for the source of the footsteps, Bulma frowned to see no one at all. Was her so tired and emotionally drained that she was beginning to hallucinate?

"WAH!" A blonde headed monster flew up from the side of her bed, extending her blood red acrylics toward her and flashing her pearly white fangs.

Bulma screamed, yanking the blankets up to her chin, "Oh my god!"

"Oh, do not being him into this," She laughed, pressing a hand to her belly.

"What the hell are you doing? Do you seriously have nothing better to do?" Bulma's eyes bulged. Her hands lowered, along with the sheet as she finally took a full breath of air.

"Like what exactly? A massive beer sounds amazing to me. You know, because I totally bombed that paper I was trying to write last minute." She popped her hip and scratched her head, "Plus you looked like a perfect target to brighten my awful mood." Bulma frowned, raising a brow in response.

"Oh really, well did you think that I may not be up for your antics this evening? I have had a lot on my mind too, you know." She gripped her binder and stood. Taking a few steps toward her mini desk, Bulma placed her closed binder upon her graded work.

"Is it because you are going to be starting your research with professor-hot-piece-of-ass?" Steph wiggled her brows seductively.

Bulma couldn't help but chuckle, "Yes and no."

Stephanie gripped her own book bag and dropped it upon her unmade bed, glancing over her shoulder and narrowing her eyes.

Bulma completely ignored her and instead dropped to their mini fridge and gripped a diet coke, popping the top and taking a large swig.

"Shut… up," Stephanie whispered.

"I didn't say anything." Bulma shrugged.

"Oh god, you know that isn't what I meant, Brandi. Did he break up with you, already!?" Stephanie created an annoyed sound with her pursed lips, sliding her confused gaze back to meet the annoyed expression of her best friend, "If you cannot hold a man, there is absolutely no hope for me. You realize this, right?"

Bulma smiled softly and shook her head, "We weren't dating."

Stephanie stuck out her tongue, obnoxiously and wiggled her head, "Oh, sorry, your fuck toy decided he would fuck you no more."

"Oh, that isn't it either. How about you don't ask any questions, ok? You tend to make a lot of assumptions." Bulma said softly, taking another swig before setting it down and lying back against her bed.

Stephanie made a cat noise and sat with her friend near the end of the bed, "What happened then? Let me know. I am your best friend. I deserve to know." She nodded matter-of-factly.

Bulma opened one eyes, and frowned, "No, you don't."

Steph pursed her lower lip, and dramatically fell to her side, "Oh come on. Why are you so annoying?"

"I'm annoying?" Bulma laughed out loud, placing a hand to her stomach.

It was uncomfortably quiet for a good long moment. Both girls lay upon Bulma's bed without a sound. Steph was looking to the ceiling, chewing her bottom lip. Finally she glanced up toward her friend, meeting eyes with her.

"He is still seeing that Dean bitch, huh?" the blonde's lips twisted to the side.

"How did you know?"

"I wasn't really sure, but I tried… to put myself in your shoes, as I know you have a lot of troubles getting close to someone. So, I thought back to when you said you caught them together, and I knew you had other issues as well, so I figured you caught them again." Steph shrugged.

"I didn't catch them. He was in a meeting with her when he told me to meet him at his office after class." Bulma inspected her nail beds, picking at them nervously.

"Oh Brandi, did you ever think he could have really been in a meeting? He is a professor at a college and she is his boss." Stephanie rolled her stomach.

"…and I am not dating him, nor did we establish we were exclusively fucking each other." Bulma raised her index finger for emphasis.

Stephanie pushed up and sat back on her rear end, tilting her head to the side, "Ok, now I am confused. You said you didn't establish exclusivity, but you are upset. Brandi, this totally isn't like you. I have never seen you this upset over a guy." Her brows knitted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Fuck me," Bulma shrugged, throwing her arms in the air, "I am not upset. I am just irritated that he is inconsistent."

"Shut up, you are not. You have your damn panties in a bunch because you think he is having his cake and eating it too." Stephanie knew better than that. Bulma could lie all she wanted, but she knew deep down that it really did bother her.

"Whatever, I don't care at this point. I have other things I have to worry about then obsessing over whose bed he is visiting for the evening. I will not text him first. He can text me whenever." Bulma stood up and began to pace the floor.

"Ok and what if he does text you?" Steph asked.

"I don't know; I'll answer I suppose." Bulma shrugged.

"You care more than you let off, Brandi."

"I'm done with this conversation." She whispered, "I have stuff I have to do. Not only that, but I work the rest of the week. On top of working I close." Bulma rubbed her temples softly, hoping that the dull ache pounding behind her eyes was not about to turn into a full blown migraine.

Stephanie watched her friend for a moment more and decided enough was enough. She wouldn't tell her how to feel, or tell her friend that she needed to discuss things with him. Steph knew that Bulma was just not cut out for one night stands, nor was she cut out for flings like this. It was only a matter of time before shit hit the fan.

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…

Stephanie had gone out a few hours after their talk. Apparently it was this new 'boy toy' or whoever he was too her as she had put it. So after a few more hours of studying Bulma called it quits. With a bag of Lays potato chips between her thighs, she turned on Netflix and began to browse.

Fumbling with the bag, Bulma grumbled under her breath. There were just too many options and not enough chips. It really irritated her to know that the bag was nearly half way gone and she was still unable to find a decent show. Her phone vibrated near her lap. The message glided across the screen for a moment, but instead of keeping to her main screen her silly phone illuminated the time instead.

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9:15 pm

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Typing in the code, Bulma narrowed her eyes and tapped her inbox. Instantly her heart began to pound in her chest and tiny butterflies flapped in her stomach. She huffed, tossing the chips aside and moved to the edge of her bed.

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O : Are you awake?

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Bulma smiled softly, gliding her fingertips over the highlighted letters. It didn't take her much time to decide she would respond to him. At the moment, it was as if she completely forgot about being ditched. Instead she wanted him to continue with the messages.

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B : No…I'm asleep.

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..

Biting her bottom lip, Bulma stood and began to pace the room, watching the ellipses pulse across the bottom of her screen.

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O: I didn't know sleep texting was a thing.

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B: I'm awake.

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O: Obviously.

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B: Did you need something?

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O: Can you talk? Texting really isn't my thing.

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Bulma stared at the text a moment, unable to decide whether or not if she actually wanted to talk to him at the moment. Tapping her toes as she paced back and forth five more times, along with going through a list in her head of pros and cons, Bulma pressed the tiny green phone to call.

It began to ring. She had never felt so nervous before. Was it because she was so mad about earlier? Why was it so weird now? She had never felt like this around him before. Well, maybe after he put his hands on her in his office, but god, wouldn't most people? No, there was something about sleeping with someone that changed the whole dynamic. They didn't have much of a relationship before, and they still knew absolutely nothing about one another, but somehow it felt odd. Though, it wasn't an unpleasant odd. It was something she could get used to. She liked the way she felt currently. A clicking sound alerted her, causing her body to straighten as she prepared to talk quickly.

"Ms. Williams," He answered. His gruff voice sent rippling tingles down the length of her body.

"Ouji," Bulma responded, swallowing hard as a shade of red formed across her cheeks. She pressed her fingers to her forehead, thanking the lord he wasn't here in front of her to witness the affect he had on her.

"I know it is getting late," He sucked in a breath.

.

_Why did you ditch me?_

_._

"Yeah, it really isn't that late. I've stayed up until 3 AM once writing a paper." Bulma laughed nervously, pacing at a more vigorous rate than before. She placed her fingers between her teeth and began bite, unable to stop from nearly biting her nails to nubs.

"I was unable to meet you as I requested." He said nonchalantly.

"Oh, I didn't even go. I completely forgot." Bulma lied, blinking rapidly and shaking her head at her own lie.

He was quiet for a moment, and all she could hear were his soft breaths coming from the other end. Was he going to say anything else? Would he explain himself?

.

_Yep, you were too busy balls deep in that cunt to even pay attention. Weren't you, Ouji?_

_._

"Monday our research begins." He reminded her.

Bulma rolled her eyes, knowing he was trying to mix formality to balance what they had going on, whatever they were. It wasn't working very well, because it made her feel odd.

"Yeah, well just e-mail me the stuff. You know how to reach me." Unenthused, the brunette ran a hand threw her hair. This was just becoming painful for her. She wanted to talk about them, not school!

"This weekend, do you have plans?" His voice became muffled, as if he was pressing a palm to the mic.

"No," Bulma let out a breathless sigh.

"Spend the night with me." It was a demand more than a request, which made her grin.

"Yes," She turned, dropping to her bed, "I…uh," her eyes blinked rapidly as she tried to find the courage.

"Yes, Ms. Williams," Her professor inquired.

"I—I really want to see you."

A soft chuckle graced her ear, "This Saturday it is. Wear a dress; no panties." He requested seductively.

Bulma's womb flooded with desire. Her breathing became heavy, and Ouji noticed this. Another chuckle caught her attention, causing her to swallow hard, "Yes, I will."

"I like you like this, Ms. Williams." He muttered.

"Like?" Bulma narrowed her eyes.

"Submissive."

Bulma opened her lips, shaking her head and laughed softly, "You just wait. We shall see who ends up on top."

"I plan too." He responded instantly, and then hung up without even a goodbye.

"Asshole," the college student shook her head, dropping her phone to the mattress.

Damn him to hell. Her body was tingly everywhere. One silly comment and she soaked her panties. Yes, damn him. He knew what to say and how to say it. All he had to do was command it and she would have been on her back with her legs in the air.

"Jesus," She whispered, running a hand through her hair. That was that, she needed to get in the shower and focus on tomorrow and the following days. That test wasn't going to take itself, and for now she had to focus, because once the weekend came she would be able to enjoy and get lost in…whatever this was.

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_End Notes: Thank you for reading! Just a little heads up—me and a friend, The Crystal Rose, have started a BV community called "The Prince and the Heiress". We host writing and art challenges, as well as give away prizes. The link is located in my profile if you are interested._

_Hope you liked the update! More to come! Thanks again!_

_-M_


	10. Phone Call 2

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An older gentleman pressed the cigar to his lips, puffing a few times to gather the taste upon his tongue. Keeping the tightly wrapped stick of tobacco between his teeth, he gripped his phone and pressed it to his ear.

"What is taking so damn long?"

" _There seems to be another involved, boss"_

"I didn't expect that. How did you come to find that out?"

" _ **He**_ _told me himself."_

"We are lucky to have our guy, that way if things go south, we disappear without a trace. On the bright side we know her identity now. Ms. Brandi Williams won't slip through my fingers again. Until we know more about this man, you need to tread carefully." He chuckled, sucking on his cigar once more.

" _Yes, boss, I plan to. From what we gather, this guy has a serious background."_

"Have our guy call me. Until I speak with him, you tell that boy not to do a damn thing."

" _Yes, boss."_

…

_.._

_._


	11. Chapter 9

**_Unmasked_ **

_Chapter 9_

_Warnings: This chapter contains adult content! No one under the age of 18!_

_A/N: Another update. Thanks for all the reviews on my previous updates. This chapter was giving me some trouble, so I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks so much for sticking with me!_

_Chapter not beta read, so if you find any mistakes, I am so sorry!_

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Test complete.  Bulma was the first one out of class. The rest of them looked to be scratching their heads. It was one of the last math courses required for her BS degree, and she had been dragging her feet on it from the very beginning. One more semester wouldn’t hurt her any. Plus, she was pretty damn good at it, so she wasn’t really that worried. It was just memorizing the mathematical terminology and theorems and applying correctly and in knowing that one could truly understand. It was tedious and time consuming, but she worked hard and succeeded, even if it was time consuming at time. On the bright side it was Friday, and the very next day was Saturday, which meant she was going to be going to see _him._ Yes and when she saw him she wasn’t sure exactly how things would go, especially after that one minor incident.

.

_You had better not think of ditching me again, asshole, or we will have some serious probs._

.

Bulma, shockingly, didn’t work Friday evening. Her boss made her work nearly every Friday. So, what did she have planned? Another shocking situation and that was she was actually going out and socializing.

“Hey, you better wear that dress. I bought it because I knew your banging-bod would look a-mazing in it.” Stephanie accentuated the syllables in her speech, grinning and winking in her best friend’s direction.

“Jesus, I told you like thirty times I was going to wear the damn thing. Can you chill?” Bulma sliced her hand dramatically through the air, gripping the glass in which held the contents of a disgusting concoction that Steph had created using, well, she wasn’t really sure.

“Yes, keep drinking that. You are more agreeable when you have alcohol in your system.” The blonde whispered, pointing a finger toward the ‘stick of dynamite’ that was currently located in Bulma’s hands, “Well, what are you waiting for? Can you please just try it on?”

Bulma walked, underwear and all, toward the tall length shaped mirror located on Stephanie’s side of the dorm room and pulled the navy blue dress up and over her hips. The material clung to her figure, accentuating her curves. The top dipped low enough to define the swells of her breasts, and Bulma wasn’t complaining. Not one bit.

“So?” Steph asked, slowly walking up behind her as she took in the reflected image of her friend. The look on the blonde’s face told her all she needed to know. She liked it.

“I like it, but it is a little…,” Bulma paused, gliding her gaze down the curves of her hips and toward her long slender legs.

“Slutty? Reveling?” Steph pitched.

“Yes and yes,” Bulma nodded.

“You are such an old lady, my god.” Stephanie growled, gripping Bulma’s teased brunette locks to fluff them.

“I know, so you always remind me.” She sighed softly, raising a brow and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yamcha is going too.” Steph pressed her face to the side of Bulma’s and smiled brightly, which she wasn’t really too thrilled to see since she knew the boat she currently was sitting in.

“Ok, So?” Bulma whispered, reaching into the built in cups of her dress and pulling up the swells to make them look larger, “But even so, he works with me. I am shocked our boss didn’t put him on the schedule. He must have called off.” She grinned.

“What? I know you have a think for professor-hot-ass, but wouldn’t you want someone a little more practical? Yamcha seems to be seriously into you, girl, and since you are going out you must keep your mind off your current problems, which is that tight ass professor of yours,” Steph stressed each syllable as she began to day dream about Bulma’s professor. Snapping out of her day dream, Steph met the annoyed express of her brunette friend; Stephanie chuckled, nudging her in a dramatic fashion. Bulma wasn’t at all amused.

“You know, I totally respected you the other day. You made sense for the first time, like, _ever_ and now you totally discredited yourself by talking. How about you just let me worry about who is getting into these panties of mine. Let me tell you, Yamcha will never get there.” Bulma shoved her away.

“Fine, you know what is best.” Steph finally said after a long pause.

Pursing her lips, Bulma raised a brow, noticing that Stephanie had given up a little too easily. Still on her guard, she left it at that. The young woman standing before the mirror ran her fingers through her hair and nodded.

“There really isn’t much else I can do to fix,” she paused, waving a hand over the entire length of her body, “this, so I guess I am ready? And if you say, ‘another thirty-minutes’ again, I will kill you. I am ready. Do you want me to change my mind?”

Stephanie shoved Bulma aside and looked at herself, “I just need to take one more selfie.”

Bulma grumbled, turning on her heel and headed straight for the door. She was leaving without her.

“I’m totally kidding.” Steph called, trotting after her.

“Good, because I was about to leave you,” She shot over her shoulder as she blonde wrestled with the strap of her bag, as she teased her hair.

Stephanie laughed, “You’re so funny.”

“I’m so not kidding.” Bulma flashed a smile and sped up her pace.

“Hey, wait for me.”

 

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The _Tap Lounge_ rumbled as the music within could be heard from the streets. People were pouring inside. Bulma was being dragged to the bar. With the heels she was wearing currently, jerky movements were just not working for her; she was nearly stumbling toward the door. Quite literally about to roll her way into the bar, head first.

“Stephanie, you need to slow down. I feel the blisters beginning to form and it hasn’t even been an hour. I will not last all damn night at this pace.” Bulma hissed.

“Oh shush, once you have a few shots you will be numb to the feeling.” Steph chuckled, yanking her front and center as she grinned playfully at the bouncer duo standing near the entrance.

“ID,” one said gruffly.

“Of course,” the blonde pursed her lips, pressing her breasts forward to give them an ample view of what she had to offer. Bulma noticed this and only scuffed, rolling her eyes as she reached into her handbag and pulled her ID free for inspection.

Both were allowed into the bouncing bar, searching for the group they were meeting. All the people were those she had never met before. Steph was all over the place with her endeavors and friendships. Bulma was really never on the same page, and that was ok with her. She never really felt the need to socialize like Stephanie had.

“They are over here,” She shouted over the music, waving to the large group near the dance floor. How could she see them through the strobe lights?

“Please, Steph, I think I can walk myself.”

“Oh, sorry,” She smile sweetly, tucking a few blonde curls behind her ear as they approached the rowdy group.

“Hey,” a voice called from behind her. A thick hand cupped her shoulder and she was pulled against a hard chest.

“Yamcha,” Bulma smiled up at her, recently acknowledged friend.

“I am honestly shocked you came out.” He chuckled, releasing her as he felt the tension grown between them.

“Yeah, well I had a shitty week, so I felt like a night out may be good for me.” She shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and looking away as she did so.

Yamcha stuck his hands deep within his pockets and nodded before responding, “Or it could be a complete disaster?”

“That too,” Bulma smiled, not at all dismissing that he was right in saying so. Even so, the young student wasn’t about to let a shitty week get the better of her. She had gotten ahold of her professor and therefore she had been in a better mood since that event. This was something to celebrate. Why not have a little bit of fun, even if the thought of him with that woman put her stomach in knots. She wasn’t one to share, never had been the type.

“Do you need a drink?” He inquired, pointing an index finger toward the bar, which currently housed all the latest tapped beers. Not only that, but they were known for their exciting and interestingly named shots.

“Please not alligator piss. How about something safe? If it has to be a shot, make it a Fireball shot. I don’t want anything too crazy.”

“You drink Fireball?”

“Well, no, but everyone else likes it – might as well make tonight the night that I try it.” The brunette grinned, shooing him toward the bar.

“Fireball it is,” He chuckled, caressing his fingertips over her exposed shoulder. Bulma rolled her arms, as an unsettling feeling drifted over her. She placed a hand to her hot forehead, feeling her temp rising. So many people giving off body heat in one area. If the room didn’t keep her warm the shot sure would in a moment. She watched as Yamcha slipped up to the bar and ordered, but her gaze quickly shifted to her best friend who winked at her once their gazes met.

.

_What are you up to? No funny business…_

_._

Bulma smiled softly, moving to Stephanie’s side. She gripped her friend’s upper arm and pursed her lips, “You didn’t mention to Yamcha that I was _looking,_ right?”

“Why would I do that?” Steph refused to meet eyes with her.

Bulma’s blue gaze narrowed slightly and her grip tightened, “What did I tell you? I am not interested in him at all. I will _not_ lead him on in that way. Stop meddling!”

“Brandi, just have fun for God sakes. I may have mentioned that you could be interested, but that was all I told Yamcha. I didn’t say much and I didn’t really go into detail. It is up to you whether or not you wish to continue.”

“Well, thanks for complicating my evening. He has offered me a drink, so now I have to play the part of ‘ _friend’_ and try and fend him off. You knew what it was like the first few weeks of us meeting. Can you imagine the position I will be in now, thanks to you?” Bulma grinned, raising her middle finger and pressing it to her friends face as she walked away.

A Fireball shot was calling her name. Uncomfortable flirtation wasn’t going to stop her from annihilating her first drink.

“Here you are,” He smiled, offering her the golden liquid. Clinking glasses, acknowledging one another and offering good luck, both tilted their heads back and welcome the wonderful burning sensation that filtered down into their bellies. Bulma swiped the back of her hand over her cherry red lips, smiling as she glanced in the direction of the dance floor.

“Are you ready for another?”

“Oh, well I am ready for a drink – how about a cranberry and vodka. I am going to hold off on the shots. Not sure how I felt about that,” Bulma smiled and coughed, reaching into her purse to pull out a ten, but as she did so Yamcha ignored her and walked away.

“Hey, you already bought me a drink,” Bulma called after him. Yamcha merely shook his head, leaning up against the bar and grinning softly. She frowned deeply.

.

_Damn it, Steph…_

.

It took some time, but he grabbed his beer and her tall glass, offering her a napkin to collect the condensation on the outside of the glass.

“Thanks,” She smiled, gripping the glass as she scanned the crowds of college students grouped around the spanning bar. Bright lights glittered, speakers boomed, and loud conversation hummed across the large interior, which was rather intimidating for someone with anxiety.

“Hey,” he grabbed her attention with bodily closeness, “It really is no problem,” Yamcha nodded, taking a sip of his beer. His eyes followed after hers, noticing she was taking in her environment. Stephanie had long disappeared among the crowd, as she was a social butterfly. Bulma, on the other hand, was the complete opposite.

“Seriously, how much do I owe you?” She asked, gripping her small bag, fumbling with the zipper.

“What?” He cupped his ear, ginning.

“How much was the drink?”

“It was free,” He nodded.

Bulma rose a brow, “Seriously, I can buy my own drinks.”

“I am completely aware of that. I just wanted to be nice, so let me be nice. I am glad you came out. This is the first time I have been out with you in the bar scene.” He twirled his index finger above his head, taking another sip to avoid meeting her glare.

“Don’t buy my drinks,” Bulma snapped, tightly zipping her purse to emphasis her point, “But—thank you.” She quickly responded while taking the straw between her lips and taking a long well enjoyed drink.

“Brandi!” Stephanie shouted from across the bar, basically coming out of the wood work.  

.

 _Typical_.

.

Bulma jumped, eyes wide as she threw up a hand, “Stephanie,” she couldn’t help but chuckle.

“We are doing some shots, come on over. Bring your man-friend.”

“Oh Jesus,” She whispered, “I just took one, I need to slow down.”

“Brandi, you are taking a damn shot. It is Friday, for god sakes!” Stephanie nearly yelled, which was something Bulma wasn’t going to press. Her friend took shots very seriously. It was a ritual, and with this being Friday, she wasn’t going to accept ‘no’.

“Did she say shots?” Yamcha chuckled, running a hand through his ebony locks, lifting his chin to see over the heads of bystanders.  

“Yep, we are in for an interesting evening, come on, man-friend.” Bulma gripped his sleeve, dragging him toward the section of the bar where multiple shots were being lined up for the taking, or in Stephanie’s way…to be sacrificed…

 

..

..

 

Bulma slammed the glass down upon the bar and scrunched her nose. Warmth enveloped her throat, sliding down smoothly and warming her belly, once again.

“I’m not sure if I am a huge fan of Fireball,” She licked her lips, as she collected her newest drink and took a sip in hopes that it would rid of the terrible after taste left behind in her mouth. Bulma chuckled as Stephanie threw up her hand, suggesting she stop bad mouthing her favorite drink.

“We are no longer friends. Yamcha likes it. He is my new bestfriend” She pointed to Bulma’s college schoolmate, who was already on his second Fireball shot.

Bulma shrugged, “Ok, well he can have all the Fireball shots you try to wave my way, and yes, please take him. The poor guy needs a friend.” She smiled softly, enjoying the feel of her escalating buzz.

Yamcha’s mouth dropped open at the insult and shook his head, having absolutely nothing to say in response to that.

“Brandi Williams, are you drunk?” Steph narrowed her eyes and wiggled her finger.

Bulma grinning playfully, “I am feeling pretty good, at the moment.”

“Yeah, I can tell because you are smiling a lot and your cheeks are a little pink.” Steph tapped her own cheeks to emphasis her point.

“Uh – because I am smiling a lot?” Bulma paused in mid-drink and looked around befuddled.

“Yeah, you don’t really smile.” Stephanie nodded nonchalantly and moved toward Yamcha, gripping his bicep, praising him for his love for Fireball.

Bulma couldn’t argue with her really, it was true. Also, she wasn’t surprised her friend would call her out on it either. Stephanie called it as it was, or in other worse she had diarrhea of the mouth.

Another great song came on, shockingly, getting her into the dancing mood. She swayed back and forth, eying the crowd in the process. It was really something that she was still able to hear the lyrics even with all the excitement going on around her. The bartenders were busy behind the counters, tossing bottles, popping beers, collecting cash and quickly pour drinks. Even though it was something fun for this night, she couldn’t see herself enjoying it every weekend.

“Brandi, I am going to the restroom.” She swiped a finger under her nose and winked.

“Steph,” Bulma gripped her friend’s forearm, shaking her head, glancing up as Yamcha who also looked to be following the group as well.

“Oh stop, it is only a little. You know I don’t do it often.” She grabbed the brunette’s face, kissing her full on the lips, making her loud escape toward the ‘bathrooms’, and did so all the while spinning ridiculously on her extremely high heels.

“I won’t let her go crazy,” Yamcha scratched his head.

“Oh, like I am going to trust you. I didn’t know you were into _that_.” She looked him up and down, expressing her disappointment. It put an even worst taste in her mouth than that Fireball shot. Bulma released a huff and sipped her drink, “Go on, I don’t want to know.”

“Don’t worry so much,” He chuckled, gripping her elbow in a way that made her feel extremely uncomfortable, “I’ll be back.”

“I don’t care if you jump off a cliff. Go on,” She turned her back and ripped her arm out of his grasp, “Also, keep your hands off of me, ok?”

Yamcha raised his hands and chuckled, “Yikes, Williams, you got it.”

Bulma brushed him off, moving toward an empty bar stool. She set her drink down and sucked in a slow breath. Lifting her blue eyes, the young college student raised a hand to capture one of the bartender’s attention and pointed to her drink.

“Cranberry and vodka, double shot. Can you add a little lime? Thanks.” She nodded, tightly grasping her bag to her chest.

Within a small amount of time of her being alone, three drunken individuals nearly knocked her from her chair; she had a drink spilled on her, and many different bodies swarming her to refill their empty drinks. Her heart began to pound in her chest. The next moment she felt that familiar passenger known as ‘anxiety’ take hold as she realized she was alone. She knew she had been alone, but she panicked knowing no one was around in which she was familiar with.

Bulma could feel herself nervously playing with the zipper on her bag. What was taking so long on her drink? Were people staring at her? She began to nervously chew at her thumb, glancing over her shoulder to see if she could find Yamcha or Stephanie. They were nowhere to be found.

Yanking her purse open, she gripped her phone.

..

_10:32_

..

What if she left? Would they care? She could walk home…alone. No, she couldn’t walk home alone now.

..

_I’m panicking…fuck…_

_._

_You are fine, it is ok. Breathe. These people aren’t going to do anything…_

..

Bulma felt her hands begin to shake as perspiration broke out upon her palms. It didn’t feel right, the erratic pounding of her heart within her rib cage.

.

_Thud._

.

She jumped as an icy cool drink was placed before her, “five,” He said, gripping the edge of the bar.

“Huh?” She whispered.

“Five dollars.” He nodded to the drink.

“Oh, right,” Bulma fumbled again for her wallet, nearly dropping her phone in the process, “Sorry, here.” She smiled offering him a five and two singles, “Keep it.” The man smiled.

She closed her eyes and took a drink. Like magic, the people surrounding her flocked to the dance floor. She felt like she could breathe again, but unfortunately there was still the remanence of uneasiness lingering. Taking a few deep breaths, Bulma slowed her heart rate, shockingly. The coolness of her drink was helping, or so she believed. Two people seated next to her moved and as they did so, she glanced toward them out of habit. That was when a familiar face caught her attention.

 A large bodied, bald man sat quietly amongst the chaos. Why did he look so familiar? Narrowing her gaze, she took him in, watching him grip a beer and watch the muted television screen. He was alone. Oddly he sat, out of place in this college scene. Oh, that was…

A hand clasped her shoulder.

“We’re back,” Stephanie shouted in a sing-song voice.

Bulma jumped, placing a hand to her chest, “Jesu—joyous, joy,” she muttered, glaring at her and shifting her angry gaze toward Yamcha who was currently looking up toward the ceiling and avoiding eye contact.

“Fireball?”

“No,” Bulma shook her head, turning in her seat to place her drink on the bar top.

“Party pooper,” Stephanie said, placing her hands upon her hips.

Bulma ignored her, taking another sip of her drink.

.

_Nappa…wasn’t that his name? He is the replacement…\_

_._

It was interesting to her that he had ventured into the bar. She side glanced once more, careful not to alert him, though she was sure he was already aware she knew he was seated close by. Was something wrong? Did he have information? Was she in trouble? Her anxiety escalated slightly. The very spot the agent had previously been seated at was now empty. Nappa was nowhere to be found. It was the way he wanted it, obviously. Taking another sip of her drink, she scanned the crowded bar once only to notice his figure slipping out the front door. These men were assigned to her for a reason. They were to protect her from _them._ Surely they knew what they were doing. There was no need to be fearful of safety. When she had been placed in the care of her Lorelei they had told her she would be informed and stay informed. That they wouldn’t allow harm to come to her, and that she was safe. Why didn’t she feel safe?

Her phone buzzed. Bulma reached into her bag to pull it free.

“Hey, wanna dance?” Yamcha moved in close, smiling cautiously.

Bulma paused, not quite getting her phone unlocked, “I’m—I don’t dance…”

“Oh come on,” Yamcha stuffed his hands into his pocket, “Why do you have to be so boring?”

Bulma blinked and tilted her head to the side, “Excuse me? I am not boring. I am what is known as, ‘anti-social’, plus you’re not special enough.” Something about that ‘boring’ comment really ticked her off, “I’ll have you know even social people hate dancing.” The brunette snapped, attempting to unlock her phone once more. This time he gripped her wrist and yanked her from the stool jokingly.

“Damn it, Yamcha.”

“Stop acting like that, and live a little.” He retorted.

Bulma yanked her hand free, “No is no, why can’t you understand that? Just leave me alone. You know, the moment I give you the benefit of the doubt, you somehow find the right thing to say or do to piss me off.” Gripping her bag, she pressed forward, slipping through the crowds of people.

Yamcha opened his mouth to speak, raising a hand to call after her, but Stephanie gripped his arm tightly.

“Look, dude, she is kinda like a caged animal at times. You can’t chase after her. Let her have her space.” A soft grin formed on her lips, “Fireball?”

“Sure,” Yamcha said softly, watching her small form slip from the bar, “Will she be alright?”

“Oh yeah,” Steph pursed her lips and nodded dramatically.

..

..

There was something about him that irritated her. He was too nice, and too supportive. Shouldn’t she, as a normal person, feel lucky to have someone like that? Yes, but she wasn’t happy about it. His very presence and pushy demeanor drove her crazy. Even though he was nice, he still had that irritating air about him, and in a way she felt he was extremely manipulative. Why couldn’t she just tell him to fuck off and be done with him? Then there was work…

“Urg,” The young woman gripped her wavy locks and hit her head against the brick a few times, shaking her head. She needed to get her emotions in check. This wasn’t right. Maybe it was time to go back to her therapist.

She slowly lowered to the ground just outside of the bar, feeling at ease and pretty confident that she would be left alone. Not even the laughter filtrated from the inside drew her attention. Instead her mind shifted to the pack of cancer sticks in her purse. She closed her eyes and sucked in a slow breath, placing a cigarette filter between her lips. Lighting it upon opening her eyes, she inhaled a long drag. Her head titled back, resting on the cool surface of the rough brick. At that moment she remembered her phone had been vibrating. What if it had been him?

She pulled her phone out, holding the filter carefully between her teeth.

..

..

**O: Are you at the dorms?**

..

..

She grinned, glancing toward the illuminated street. Should she answer him back, or leave him hanging like he left her. Bulma didn’t have the strength and she knew it. She wasn’t thinking straight. Damn hormones and such. Finally decided she would respond. Just to see where it was going. She was going to see him tomorrow if things played out like she hoped.

..

..

**B: Nope…surprisingly.**

..

..

She waited watching the ellipsis flutter across her brightly lit screen.

..

..

**O: Surprisingly? Why is that surprising? You are a college student.**

..

..

**B: I’m not your typical college student.**

..

..

**O: I am going to assume you are at a bar. Which one?**

..

..

Bulma bit her lower lip, placing the filter between her lips once again, sucking in and releasing a puff of white smoke through her nostrils. Flicking the filter, ashing on the ground she cupped the phone once more, prepared to respond.

..

..

**B: Tap Lounge**

..

..

**O:  Interesting. Just leaving Charlie’s…**

..

..

Bulma narrowed her eyes and glanced toward her left, which was the direction in which Charlie’s was located. Wasn’t that a biker bar? Her professor hung out at biker bars? Interesting and it was just down the block. She could see people entering and leaving from where she was seated. So, she stood abruptly, completely forgetting about her insecurities prior and decided she wanted to see if he really was hanging around that place like he claimed. Why would he lie anyway?

Locking her phone and slipping it into her purse, Bulma slowly started to walk down the empty sidewalk toward Charlie’s. She could see the lights from where she was standing. Butterflies began to flap in her stomach. Through her nervousness she was completely and utterly excited to see him once again. It was sickening. She was absolutely disgusted with her behavior.

Was he with anyone? Now she was overthinking. What if he was just informing her he was there, but actually hoping she didn’t come? Even so, Bulma’s legs didn’t stop they kept going in the same direction, not once faltering.

Bulma took one last drag of her cigarette, flicking it into the street as she gripped her purse strap tightly in the other hand. She swallowed hard and licked her lips, fixing her hair even though it was slightly a lost cause since where was a strong breeze filtering through the down town collection of buildings and she had nearly been sweating her ass off in the bar she had just been in. She was a damned hot mess.

Instead of focusing on the lost cause, known as her hair, Bulma focused on the blue dress hugging her hips. She pulled the material down, and smoothed out the creases. Just past the ally and three openings down, she would be there. A small group of people were collecting outside, but quickly disappeared within. Where was he? Her blue eyes shifted toward the darkened street as she passed an ally.

..

_Where is his car?_

_.._

She paused, looking around to see that he was nowhere to be found. Did she have to go inside to find him? Instead of going into a crowded bar alone, Bulma reached around to grip her purse, yanking on the zipper, yet again. At that moment a warm hand gripped her arm, yanking her into the shadows of the ally way. The brunette opened her mouth to scream, but was silenced as a hand covered her lips, backing her up against a cool brick wall. Wide eyed and confused, Bulma was looking into a pair of onyx eyes that were filled with intrigue. Her professor grinned, placing an index finger against his lips. When she relaxed Vegeta slowly slid his palm from her mouth and instead placed it upon her bare collar, brushing his thumb over her pulse.

“What in the hell are you doing in the dark?” Bulma whispered, glancing back toward the lit sidewalk, looking to see if anyone was around to witness what had just occurred.  

His eyes glided down the front of her body, taking in her attire. He slowly slid on hand down toward her hip, offering a soft squeeze before releasing and taking hold of her wrist once more.

“Come,” He said, not giving her any other option but to follow after him.

“Where are we going?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“Will your friends wonder where you are? My friends will wonder where I am.”

“My friends went home, and yours will have to be left wondering.” He said casually, yanking her deeper until there was nothing but moonlight illuminating their path.

Bulma stumbled over a few cans cluttering the dingy allyway, causing her to fall forward onto his back. He twisted momentarily, holding her steady. Without much of a break he kept on. Her long legs kept up, until they rounded a small corner into a darkened enclosure deep within. It was dark and damp with a slight pungent odor. Was it weird that she didn’t care, as long as she was there with him in this moment?

“This looks like a place people go when they want to get murdered.” She stumbled, feeling her way against the wall, watching as he approached her slowly.

“Why did you taking me back here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“I wouldn’t be asking otherwise.” Her lidded blue eyes found his full mouth, watching as the corners curled up into his signature smirk.

.

_Playing stupid isn’t very becoming, Bulma…_

.

“Remember what I said, girl? It will be on my terms.” He gripped her jacket, tossing it to the ground. His index finger found her hip, guiding her back toward the wall.

“Oh, only on your terms, huh?” She muttered, running a hand through her hair, “What if I don’t want it.”

Vegeta paused, glancing up to look her straight in the eye, tracing a finger down between the swells of her breasts, “You would have never came my way if you weren’t looking for something, girl, don’t play with me.” He leaned in close enough that she could feel his hot breath on her lips. She groaned, turning her head to the side, offering a soft playful grin.

“I’m not playing, you are.” The young woman smiled, turning her face so she could read his. Gripping her chin, Vegeta leaned in, taking her lips against his, “My terms,” He whispered breathlessly, “Now let me fuck you. Right here, right now.” That moment her arms wrapped around his neck, pressing her body flush with his. His hands fumbled, gripping her rear to hoist her legs up and around his slender hips.

Bulma groaned, as his hungry mouth found hers in a breathless kiss, “What about tomorrow?” She spoke softly between kisses. He silenced her with his tongue, sliding a hand up to cup her breast in his palm, brushing over her peaking nipple with his thumb. He didn’t want to make small talk, not at this moment. Roughly, Vegeta pulled the low cut material away from her naked breasts.

“No bra?” His black brows raised in surprise.

Bulma grinned, reaching up to cover her pink peaks. Vegeta gripped her wrists and pinned them above her head, “Don’t hide from me, girl.” He rolled his hips, grinding his growing hardness against the front of her very exposed pink panties.

Leaning in, he took one nipple between his hot lips, suckling and swirling his tongue. She arched against him, rolling her head to the side to bury her face against the cool flesh of her arm.

“Oh god,” she whispered breathlessly, widening her hips, forcing him to released her hands so he could steady her slipping form, and pull higher upon his flexing hips. Pulling his face from her naked breasts, Vegeta reached down to cup hip once again, sliding the material up toward her belly button. Her flat stomach was exposed as well as the entirety of her undergarments.

“Unbuckle my belt.” He demanded gruffly.

Bulma didn’t hesitant, seconds after his request her hands fumbled with the belt, pulling it and without his consent unbuttoned his pants. She didn’t stop there, as she continued to unzip them. He placed a hand against her chest, taking her lips in his once more. His tongue dipped between her lips slowly as if enjoying her sweet lips.

“I’m going to fuck you now. Tomorrow we will have more time to play, but for now I cannot wait.” He muttered against her mouth, springing his hard cock free.

Gripping her thigh tightly, Vegeta reached between them in order to remove the barrier away. Gripping wet material of her panties he pulled them aside, sliding his index finger up her cleft, pleased to feel she was already ready.

The head of his manhood dipped up and through her pink folds, demanding entrance. Bulma arched her hips, rounding them to help him find his way. Without a moments noticed, he gripped her hips and pressed home, filling her to the brim.

The brunette gasped, throwing her head back against the hard wall. Her eyes closed tightly as she gasped for breath. A million stars burst behind her eyelids. It didn’t take long for him to find that delicious tempo. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, groaning with each hard thrust of his hips. The movements were chaotic and needy. Though, he didn’t forget about her. His nimble fingers worked their way between their thrusting bodies, stroking and coaxing a response. It didn’t take long for either of them. His hips drew a frantic pace, as his fingers dug into her outer thighs. Bulma began to pant softly in his ear.

She wondered, at that moment, if he preferred her or the dean. Was she—good enough?

..

..

_Damn it, stop thinking about her…_

_Just feel…_

_Fuck._

_.._

_.._

He texted her, he wanted to be with and see her…right? Had he been with her before this? She growled, wanting nothing more than to completely forget about what she had witnessed months ago. She would not allow herself to become obsessed with competition, and she sure as well wouldn’t allow herself to grow clinging.

A slight change in the way he entered her was all it took, “I’m close, don’t stop.” She growled, biting his earlobe and burying her face against the collar of his shirt. His scent alone nearly did it for her. At that very moment she pushed that woman from her thoughts, and instead focused on the feeling of him deep within her.

Her nails bit into the strong build of his back, encouraging his motions. Vegeta grunted, pressing her thighs higher as he pulled her up and down upon him. His lidded eyes found hers, captivated by the mere look of her face which was the definition of pure ecstasy.

“Go ahead, show me,” He muttered, gritting his teeth as he held back his own climax, waiting for the perfect time.

“God,” She whimpered, eyes rolling as she was pressed over the edge. Her walls clenched tightly around him, rocking her own hips to meet his.

He collected her close, pressing his forehead to her shoulder as he rode out his own climax, allowing himself the satisfaction after sating her. His knees trembled, slowing his pace as he tried to regain control. His eyes slowly opened, even though he had yet to catch his breath.

..

..

_I can’t believe I just had sex in an ally…_

_.._

_.._

She started to chuckle, placing a hand over her face, “Oh my god. I cannot believe I did that…and in an ally.”

He grunted in response. Vegeta then lowering her from his hips, making sure both of her feet were planted on the ground before her released her. Bulma began to situate herself, awkwardly pressing her dress down past her hips.

“I don’t think I – um, will be able to go back to the bar.” She motioned to her extremely soaked panties and his essence, which was now running down her inner thigh.

Vegeta stood up straight grinning softly as he tucked himself back into his pants.

“Should I take you back?” He finally asked, removing himself from her touch.

She watched him carefully as his hot demeanor faded and was replaced with his usual cool exterior.

“Oh, um—sure you can take me back.” Bulma bent at the waist and collected her jacket, slipping it on.

“To get clothing; you are with me now. No sense in waiting until tomorrow,” He rubbed his thumb under his nose, glancing over his shoulder and raising a brow, “Unless you have something better to do?”

“Well, I am sure Yamcha and Stephanie will be wondering where I am.” She added, situating her bag and pulling her phone free. Sure enough there were four missed calls from Yamcha. Bulma rolled her eyes, “He doesn’t ever leave it alone.”

Vegeta began to walk toward the front of the ally way, “My car isn’t far. Text your friends, say you got a ride from your mother.”

Bulma raised a brow, “Uh, ok.” For all he knew she lived out of town or commuted. Maybe he just assumed?

“Let’s go, I want to get back.”

“Hold on,” She grumbled.

“You can text your friends in my car. That or you need to learn to multi-task. Remember I work in this town.” He grumbled, waving his hand to signal for her to move quickly.

The unfortunately realization, one in which she could never been seen with him in public or he could ultimately lose his job. That was until she graduated, if their relationship still existed. She didn’t want to dwell on the ‘what ifs’.

They finally made it to his dark sedan. She opened the door and slipped in, pulling her dress down the curve of her rear and finished her text. He began to pull out of the parking lot, traveling to her dorm where she quickly collected a night bag and left before anyone had a chance to come home or stop her. They left as quickly as they came, heading straight for the interstate in which they had taken to get to his home the first night she had slept over.

Interesting, as he had once told her he never took his conquests home. She was being invited for a second time. Even though they would never be official, she was comforted by this small bit of knowledge. She was the only one, or so she thought. It could have changed since then, maybe?

“Has the dean ever been to your house?” She side glanced, shifting her chair to a reclined position.

Vegeta’s brows narrowed, “No, why?”

“I am just wondering.” Bulma shrugged, pulling her knees up against her chest.

“Something on your mind?” Her professor asked, gripping the steering wheel.

“No,” She shook her head.

“You’re full of shit.” The onyx haired man muttered, turning off the soft music which had acted as a background noise to their previous awkward silence.

“Look, I don’t really want to get into it. I want to enjoy this time with you. As we have both established, we aren’t anything but fuck buddies anyway, so I don’t care what you do in your spare time.”

“Is this about my meeting?” He asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Yes, you couldn’t have told me you were meeting with her?”

“She is my boss.”

“So it was a meeting or a…” She quoted her fingers dramatically, “meeting.”

“Why don’t you just come out and ask me if I was fucking her.”

  
“Were you fucking her?”

“No.”

“Not since we have been fucking?”

“No.”

Bulma narrowed her eyes, watching his cold and collected features as they watched the traffic zipping by and merging.

“Don’t tell me you have suddenly forgotten what we spoke about the first night. Childish behavior will not sit well with me.”

.

_Childish?_

_._

Bulma swallowed hard, biting her tongue as she wanted to rip him apart, but then didn’t, “I don’t care who you are with. Just don’t ditch me next time, and if you must let me know.”

“I agree, as long as you keep in mind what this is, Brandi.” He nodded, tightening his hold on his steering wheel as he flicked his blinker on and exited.

.

_Yes, as you keep reminding me._

_As I keep telling myself._

_Why does it hurt so much?_

_._

.

.

_Alright, that is all for now, folk! Hope you enjoyed!_

_-M_

 

 

                                                                                                     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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